The Truth is a Shard of Ice
by Whitefang333
Summary: The truth is not given to the meek. It is for those brave enough to grasp it. A lonely Viking misfit and one vigilante dragon could tie the link to the past, and the future?
1. Futile Fulfilment

_Yen..."_

_"I am a sorceress, Geralt. The power I possess over matter is a gift. A gift I reciprocate. I paid for it... with everything I had. There's nothing left."_

_She fell silent. The sorceress wiped her brow with a trembling hand._

_"I was wrong," she repeated. "But I'll fix my mistake. Emotions and feelings..." she touched the black kestrel's head. The bird ruffled its feathers, opening its mute curved beak. "Emotions, whims and lies, fascinations and games. Feelings and the lack thereof... gifts that should not be accepted... lies and truth. What is right? To deny a lie? Or to state a fact? And if the fact is a lie, then what is truth? Who is so full of feelings that it tears them apart and who is a cold and empty shell of a skull? Who? What is right, Geralt? What is the truth?"_

_"I don't know, Yen. You tell me."_

_"No," she said and lowered her eyes. It was the first time. He had never seen her do this before. Never._

_"No," she repeated. "I cannot, Geralt. I cannot tell you. It will be this bird, born from the touch of your hand, that will tell you. Bird, what is the truth?"_

_"The truth," declared the kestrel, "is a shard of ice."_

From Andrzej Sapkowski's book "The Sword of Destiny". If you haven't read it yet, do it now! This author's style heavily influenced my own and I consider this author as an absolute master of fantasy. Period.

English is not my first language so if you would find any mistake in my text… just point it out. I promise I won't cry! Seriously, I won't!

A deep bow to **Fjord Mustang **that forced me into writing my own story. She wrote "To Soar into the Sunset: A Night Fury's Odd Memoir" fic that you can find on this site. If not for her, I wouldn't be here typing this text that is most probably causing you to scroll down faster.

A big Thank goes to **Backroads** and **almne** for proofing and reviewing this story before I decided to publish it. Thanks again!

I appreciate the input of Chocobo Scribe and ChristinaTM. Thanks.

If you like the story, review! If not, review as well. As a scientist, I **love** constructive criticism.

AN: Dragons measure time using the cycles, moon cycles and sun cycles. One cycle=74/75 years. You can see a comet on the sky then. Moon cycle=28 days. Sun cycle= 1 day. Plain and simple. Also first few chapters are just an introduction of the characters and the movie world. Just to let you know.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They belong to Dreamworks and Cressita Cowell.

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He caught another fish with a lazy flick of his hind leg. He was full already, but fresh food would be welcomed by his mate. She couldn't fly well after that fight with the Sharp-winger. He had cut her back deeply, almost severing the muscle responsible for lifting her left wing. He had told his mate to wait before attacking, but she was always hot-headed. Not really a thinking type, but she was loyal and, for him, that was much more valuable than intelligence. The Sharp-winger had been quite strong, but after he had joined the fight, they managed to kill the Sharp-winger and take over his den. It turned out to be a perfect hideout: a cave on a lonely island quite a long distance from any other land. Far away enough that his smell would not be detected and he could hunt without worry of being spotted. Still, he was hunting only at sunset or sunrise. It was a time frame of least likelihood to meet his kind. Especially "him". Almost one whole cycle had passed since he had started running away from that monster.

Today the ocean was presenting itself in all its beauty. The sun, already at twilight, gave the water a very strong orange colour, making the water movement much more visible and clear. There was something mesmerizing in that. Wind gently played beneath his wings in a harmonious and very well known melody. Adjusting his wings and tail, he descended toward the stone pillars that were standing lonely from the water, their exterior destroyed and distorted by the elements acting countless years on them. Some were seen laying pathetically in the shallow waters. Waves broke on their surface, changing into sprays of ginger. Instinctively he felt wind currents changing near the stone columns. He banked strongly to the right, following the steadier flow of air. After a short flight, he saw the entrance to the cave. Above the small stone ledge that was placed in front of the opening and used for landing and taking off, he decreased his speed and flapped his wings harder, letting his hind legs absorb the impact. He had a fish in one, so he would have to manage with one leg only. His species didn't have front paws but small claws on each wing. He landed heavily with a loud thud, usual sound announcing his arrival.

Then he knew that something was wrong. Maybe it was because of the lack of his mate's usual roaring when he was back or maybe it was because of a faint trace of blood in the air that his nostrils picked up. Or perhaps it was due to the sudden chill that he felt on his back, crawling slowly from the base of his tail and up to his neck. It felt like cold claws about to dig into the flesh. This feeling was so strong that he turned back suddenly, with muscles tensed and ready to fight.

But there was nobody behind him, only the sight of the sun slowly submerging behind the horizon and the sounds of waves breaking on the stone interlaced with distant cries of seagulls.

He turned again towards the entrance. He knew this time would come sooner or later. A sigh escaped from his snout. He knew now that this would be the last day of his life. He would die today, most probably a long and painful death, but he had been getting himself ready for it for a very long time now. He was a very experienced hunter and an even better fighter. He had never lost a duel or a fight with other dragon and had never let his prey escape. However, he knew he couldn't possibly compete with the monster patiently waiting for him in the darkness.

"_If dying, better on a full stomach,"_- he thought calmly. However, his body gave away his real feelings. He looked at his hind leg holding the fish. His claws dug so deeply and with such force that it made it unrecognizable. He couldn't deny it now. As much as he tried to deceive himself, he was terrified, but not because he was about to die. Nobody has ever met a dragon that died a natural death. All dragons were ready to fall someday under the claws of other dragons, humans or any other predator. He was terrified of the Monster and the way he was killing his prey.

He knew that humans called his kind a word that means a bad dream. The Nightmare. He never had a bad dream before, but humans seemed to find nightmares terrifying.

"_What fools they are that they think so. There are so many scarier things than my kind, and I'm about to experience one of the worst,"- _on this thought, a small smile showed on the Nightmare's muzzle.

This abomination waiting for him was never seen while killing.

"_More like slaughtering,"_- he corrected himself in his mind. The Monster did it with the ease of a hatchling playing with an almost dead fish. He was silent like the wind spirit that some thought he was. The possibility that such a seasoned fighter as the Nightmare wouldn't be able to see his adversary before dying was indeed very frightening.

He tossed with his hind leg the remains of the fish to the ground near his muzzle, he lowered his head and swooped it in a lightning motion, eating it up in one gulp. He ignored the taste of sand that got in it, not taking his sight off the shadows in front of him even for a moment.

He made his way forward, folding the upper parts on his wings, placing front and rear claws as gently as possible, listening to the sounds in the grotto. All he heard were secluded splashes of water dripping lazily from the stalactites and sounds of the ocean behind him.

The smell of blood was getting stronger as he carefully crawled forward, darkness slowly falling over him. His red body, marked with brownish stripes, was making him a very visible target. Sniffing, he tried to smell his enemy but couldn't smell anything beside blood, salt, calcium from the water inside the cave and fish guts- some still clinging to his claws.

But the smell of blood was the most overwhelming of all, and soon he saw why.

On every small boulder, rock or other rock formation he could see every half-length of his body or so, a blood smear. It was shaped like a paw with four claws emerging from it. He almost hissed at the sight of that. Not because he felt sorry for his mate whose blood had been used for it, but because it was making it impossible for him to track this fiend using his nose.

Reluctantly, the dragon moved now towards the larger part of the cave that both he and his mate used as a sleeping chamber. He saw bloody footprints of the Monster all over the place now, each forming different paths it was following, and each disappearing into the darkness. He knew that each of them was leading into a trap. He wouldn't stand a chance in a narrow labyrinth of stalactites and stalagmites. He was too large and not agile enough to dodge attacks there. He tried to "taste" the temperature with his tongue. As he expected, he couldn't find anything, only the body of his mate getting colder.

Looking into the centre of the chamber, he saw his mate's motionless body on the ground. She was lying on her side with both wings folded and her head lying near her body. Her yellow eyes were opened without any spark of life in them, looking directly at him. A small trace of blood was escaping her muzzle and, if not for this, it would have taken him longer to see how she had died. He saw a small wound on the upper part of the neck, exactly where her head ended and neck begun. He knew it was exactly there where the spinal cord entered the skull and, from the look of it, the cut was made between the first and second vertebra, severing nerves and going deeper into the throat.

The bleeding from the muzzle explained how deep the cut was and, from the look of her still wide pupils, death was instantaneous. He was somewhat grateful for that. He knew exactly what had happened. His mate had been asleep and heard someone landing in the entrance. Thinking it was he, she went back to napping. When she smelled or heard that it wasn't a dragon she was expecting, she looked up, but it was far too late. The monster was already near her and just swung his paw once, killing her immediately. Using the blood of his kill and dirt on the ground he had covered his body killing his smell with it. Afterward, he made all those lovely markings on the wall and ground and went into hiding.

The Nightmare contemplated for a moment if his mate would have had stood a chance if she had reacted sooner. He immediately rejected this thought. His enemy was not somebody that could be killed by a wounded Nightmare, not even by a healthy one. Fighting with him in the sky was an even more suicidal option than on the ground. The Monster knew it very well. The Monster also knew that the red dragon would not notice anything until he was be near the entrance. The Nightmare had to enter the cave.

Now as he was standing in the middle of the chamber, he thought furiously.

"_I was being watched for a few sunrises, even longer, and I didn't notice anything. But how did he find me in the first place_?"

His eyes met the gaze of his dead mate and he got his answer.

"We s_houldn't have killed that Sharp-winger. News is spreading fast it seems_,"

The Monster was called the "flying death," and there was a very good reason for it.

Suddenly, the small amount of light that was coming into the grotto was shadowed for a second as if somebody was passing through it. The Nightmare acted on instinct. His head turned that direction as quick as a thought. Yellow fire shot from his muzzle, engulfing the passage and rocks near it in flames.

He regretted this action soon. His eyes could see very well in the dark but now, as the flames were dancing, shadows got distorted, confusing his vision. It was a very basic rule of fighting among dragons. Never fight in the dark with fire as a light source. And he had let himself fall for it like some inexperienced hatchling.

Cursing his stupidity in his mind he started circling agitatedly, looking for his opponent. Breathing heavily and with his heart beating loudly, his senses got even more impaired. His smell, sight and hearing were useless now, and his movements uncoordinated and full of panic.

His enemy had waited just for this moment. Launching himself from the stalagmite he was hiding behind, he passed fast like a shadow behind his prey. The Nightmare thought that the Monster just passed without injuring him until he tried to move and fell to the ground. He looked at his hind legs and, to his horror, he saw that his left hind leg was almost detached. A deep cut was running right below his knee, severing tendons and muscles. The Monster had done it so fast that the Nightmare hadn't even felt it. Now as it started to hurt, he ignored it and tried to crawl his way to the exit, leaving a large path of blood behind him.

He felt a movement on his right side and swung his wing widely, hoping to hit something with it. He almost got the Monster, but right before the wing could hit him, the Monster jumped and gracefully performed a somersault, twisting himself in the landing behind him. The next thing the Nightmare knew, one of the Monster's paws was crushing his neck, and the other pressing his jaws together so he couldn't breathe fire. He thought about struggling, but as his muscles slightly tensed, he felt a familiar sharp pressure near the base of his skull. He stopped moving instantly and all he allowed himself were shallow breaths.

He turned his gaze to the left as far as possible, but all he could see was one muscled ebony paw with four claws digging into his muzzle. He saw how dark scales glistened in the light of the now dying fire, shimmering in the dark with little hints of blue in them. He still couldn't hear the Monster, though. His heartbeat and breaths were inaudible. He was really like the ghost that others rumored him to be, a vengeful spirit seeking those responsible for his suffering.

The Nightmare was surprised, as well. He should be dead by now, but these paws seemed to ask one silent question and that Monster wanted to hear an answer: why?

"You were always weird, different," the Nightmare began, trying to open his muzzle as little as possible. He felt the pressure from the Monster's front paw lessen just enough so the Nightmare could speak.

"Since you could crawl, you weren't like the others," he continued, "You, your family and your kind always were on the same side. Always acting like you were superior to others. Thought you were so intelligent, you could outsmart anyone? Huh? Well, that changed when IT came, didn't it?" he asked mockingly.

The Monster didn't even flinch whilst listening to the Nightmare's words. Not even one scale moved on his front leg, and the Nightmare still couldn't hear or feel the Monster's heartbeat and breath. The Nightmare couldn't help but to admire the Monster's composure; those memories weren't merry ones for any dragon who was living there at that time. The Nightmare snorted in a way that meant he had expected a different reaction and continued.

"Even if your oddness was somewhat tolerable, it all changed after there was only three of you left: you, your sweet little brother and…," –he smiled on that, knowing very well what the Monster's reaction would be," …your sister." He finished with a smile.

He wanted to smile wider but was stopped as the pressure on his neck suddenly deepened. He felt blood streaming from the wound that formed. The front paw crushed his muzzle violently. He felt blood in his mouth; he must have bitten his tongue. But he was still alive.

And he had achieved what he wanted. The Monster's breath and heartbeat were now clearly audible. The Monster growled deeply and, even though there wasn't any word in it, the threat was clear: _You mention her again, you die._

After that, the pressure on the Nightmare's muzzle lightened slightly, but the pressure on his neck remained, the stinging pain reminding him of the situation he was in. He spat out a little blood from his mouth and started talking again.

"After…" he didn't finish as the pressure on his neck deepened, clearly indicating that the Nightmare was not to talk about those things.

"After those events, "he started again, "You know very well how life changed. After what happened to you, your siblings and your family," he added quickly.

He waited for a reaction from the Monster, but when nothing happened he went on, "What happened to your family wasn't our fault. We couldn't resist IT- you know this as well as I do. We weren't in total control of what we were doing at that time."

The Nightmare looked for a moment like he wanted to add something, but then his eyes widened, looked forward, unfocused on anything. Sparks started to dance in them, sparks of insanity.

The Monster's head filled with a familiar ringing but he ignored it. He knew what would happen next.

The Nightmare's eyes then lost their light, and he started talking, his voice now changed, full of venom and loath.

"How does it feel to fulfill your vengeance my cute little dragon, or should I call you the _Winged Death_ as most call you now? You have ended your lifelong quest to destroy those responsible for your anguish, to punish all that are evil, vanquish all that are wicked and fouled, " he stopped for a moment to take a fast breath and went on, "What kind of sick justice is that? You have just spent most of your life travelling around the world and killing others. No other dragon would have done the same. Oh I forgot, you have those, how do you call them, 'feelings'?"

Then, the Nightmare started to giggle hysterically, and after a few moments stopped, "You have killed all of my best slaves, but have you forgotten you can be one of them as well? It hurts me to see how you have used the freedom I gave you so graciously."

The Monster- or "Shade" as he called himself- listened. His muzzle revealed a grimace that showed an inner sorrow. After a second, though, it was replaced by a scornful smile.

The voice that emerged now from the Nightmare's throat was full of wonder and excitement, like that of an inquiring hatchling.

"So, what will you do now, my cute little friend? You were out there on your glorified mission for almost two cycles, so focused on killing others. Oh, it was so amusing to see how you struggled and tried - and all for nothing!"

The Nightmare started giggling again, "You will never be free, never! You can struggle all your short and pathetic life, but it will always be meaningless. I could change you into one of my followers in a second, like this piece of meat before you, but you are just too much fun to watch! Entertain me, little dragon, entertain me like your sister did!"

Then the Nightmare started laughing madly now, foam had started to form around his lips, completely ignoring that he had the Monster's paw on his muzzle or that a claw was still digging in his neck.

Shade let out a loud growl and pressed the claw in Nightmare's neck deeply. Then he swiped powerfully to the right.

The laughter died almost instantly as the cave wall was sprayed in crimson. Shade let out a loud roar full of fury and frustration that started echoing inside the small cave.

He looked at his now dead enemy, the Nightmare's muzzle still with a mocking expression on it. Looking away from it, Shade walked slowly towards the exit.

Shade stopped on a stone pedestal outside the exit and looked at his front claws that moments ago were carving into the Nightmare's neck. His black body was now covered in blood and dirt.

Shade flicked his paw, letting the drops of blood fall onto the rock beneath him. He stood like that in silence for a moment, looking at his bloody paw with a tired expression in his eyes. He almost expected it would give him the answers he craved. The sun was almost gone now. The small part of it that remained gave the ocean a red colour. Shade looked at it for a moment, his toxic green eyes scanning the horizon. Waves of water calmed for a moment, the wind stopped blowing, embracing the world in silence.

"This ocean" he said out loud. "This looks like an ocean of blood."

The wind started blowing strongly like it was agreeing with his words. Waves started to shatter violently on the rocks beneath at the base of the cliff as if answering to his feelings. Shade looked at the scarlet water for a moment more and then took off. Heading towards the place he thought he would never return to. Towards the sunset.

Towards his home.


	2. Meridian of Misery

Disclaimer: I own not any do characters of the. and to They Dreamworks Cressita Cowell belong. (put it in the correct order, hint: it is the same as the previous one)

AN: I like tea!

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23 years later

The sunrise started lazily. Single rays of light emerged from beneath the horizon. Soon more appended to them, creating a fan-like shape. Part of the sun's circle appeared, and the water's surface started to twinkle and glitter. Each movement of water released a cascade of sparks. It seemed one could still watch the night sky, sealed beneath the ocean's surface. Wind gently caressed the still calm water surface. As beautiful as it looked, the people of Berk had a lot more to do than to enjoy a view of the sunset, or sunrise in this case. Light started filling the roads, twisting among homes and buildings. Shortly, as warmth from the sun caused the water on the ground to evaporate, a dense fog formed and concealed the whole lower part of the island in it. Inside the mist, human figures were running back and forth. At the first sight it could look like havoc, however at a closer look, you could see men running with wooden boards and tools. Women rushed with buckets filled with water. Occasional shouts cut through the air as sounds of falling wood echoed and somebody yelled a warning.

"Fallin' now, watch out!"

The sounds ended and the same voice boomed:

"Deergut, get four more people an' go to th' dock! We got a village to rebuild!"

Sounds of boots hitting against the ground filled the space and a few man shapes materialized from the fog, dashing and turning towards the lower parts of the village. Right after that, a large silhouette of a man emerged from the side of the building, turning sharply towards the direction that the voice shouted.

The first thing that hit the eye was how enormous that person was. A giant cloak made from the fur of a bear flapped behind him, two metal discs, silver in colour, pinned to it. Both had a dragon's head engraved on them, and both rested on the man's shoulders. On each of the discs lacy chains were present, and they were knitted together beneath his neck.

Knots created by disc laces were hidden under a colossal red beard, its hair groomed into small curls. Above the beard was a crimson moustache. The top of his head was decorated with long, braided hair and a helm of quite small size but with big horns shooting from it.

His face had a serious expression with determined, sparkling green eyes. The man was wearing a green tunic that fell down to his thighs. On the tunic at stomach level, chainmail protected the lower part of the abdomen. Both tunic and armour were fastened by a giant leather belt with a large golden medallion on the front. Like the discs, the medallion had a dragon's head portrayed on it.

On both the man's forearms, nailed bracers rustled. Muscles played on his arms as he made his way towards his destination. The man was wearing dark brown leather trousers and grey wolf's pelt boots marked with mud formed on the ground by the last night's rain.

He walked near a home that had a big hole in it. As if some giant explosion had occurred and changed the front of the house into a living demonstration of what could ensue if you happened to have an unsecured source of fire, a small kid, explosive material and a dog.

The dog wasn't mandatory.

He passed the house, holding his gaze on the hole for a second, and then turning it on a man in front of him. Not lingering to observe the other man, he stopped near him and turned in the direction his friend was looking.

The sight wasn't pretty. The scene presented a house- or what had been left from it. Burned logs of wood lay on the ground, a few standing in different directions. Charred lumber without any shape filled the earth, dust, black smoke and embers filling the sky above it. The air was full of the smell of burned materials. The smaller of the two men started to speak without even looking at the other person.

"Stoick," He said.

"Gobber," Stoick answered.

Gobber the Belch, head blacksmith of Berk, was a man you couldn't possibly miss, even in a herd of zebras and we all know how zebras can confuse your eyes.

Powerfully built, he was as perfect an example of the Viking as his companion. As cold it was, he wore only a yellowish tunic on his chest, densely spotted with burned holes and scorch marks, reminders of the previous night's battle. His pants were very loose, coloured in light and dark brown stripes. On his right leg, he wore a small boot made from bear's pelt. He did not have another one because his other leg was missing from the thigh down and was replaced by a wooden peg. On his left arm, similar to Stoick's, you could see a bracelet, but made from rope folded around his forearm with a few cords tied up around his fist, protecting the inside part of his palm. His right hand, along with better part of his forearm, was missing and replaced by a large axe-like contraption attached to his limb.

On his face you could see an enormously long moustache tied up in knots. His blue eyes would show a lot of intelligence if not for the fact that his facial expressions were quite limited and the one that he showed most often was not that of a philosopher. His eyes were slightly closed, brows furrowed and, with a large silver piece of metal that only pretended to be a tooth shooting out from his mouth, he looked like very bored bulldog. On his head you could see a messed pile of blond hair without his usual helmet on it. His helm didn't have horns. Only the chief of the tribe was allowed to wear them as a symbol of status and prestige.

They stood in a complete silence for a moment, observing the damage. Stoick was the first to speak.

"What d' we hav' here?"- he asked.

Gobber put a hand on his hip nonchalantly and answered with his usual ironic tone.

"I call it, '_The Smithereens in th'_ _Mornin'_, quite an exemplary piece 'f modern art I would say. What d' ya think?" he turned to his friend with a little smile on his face.

Stoick's expression didn't change, even for a second.

The blacksmith, noticing that, sighed and started speaking again.

" Chickenpot's house: destroyed by a Zippleback's blast. Luckily all family was able t' escape," His tone then changed and there was not even a hint of playfulness in it, "I know the final balance of yesterday's fight, if ya wanna kn.." he didn't even finish when Stoick interrupted him abruptly.

"How many?" He asked in a dark tone.

Gobber stood for a moment in silence.

"Three, "He stated in a tone matching Stoick's, "Four, 'f ya count young Cripplehorn. He got some nasty burns. Healers ar' doin' their best , but…," he stopped for a second and finished quietly, "He most probably won't make it."

Stoick took a deep breath, took off his helmet with one hand, the other swiping through his hair, a tired look in his eyes. He put the helmet back on his head, making sure it was standing upright. He thought for a moment and turned to Gobber.

"Tell 'em we will hold funerals in th' evening, keep me informed about the youth."

Then he started marching smartly towards the Mead Hall, but was stopped by his friend's voice, who was few steps behind him.

"Stoick," Gobber said.

The Chieftain stopped but didn't turn to face him, just twisted a little so he could see the blacksmith with one eye.

"How's th' boy?"Gobber asked, not eyeing his friend, still looking at the burned building.

Stoick just turned his face again so he was facing the front and said in his normal deep emotionless voice.

"Talk t' ya later, Gobber."

The Mead Hall was the oldest building in Berk. Circular in shape, it was built mostly from very old and powerful granite stones. The Roof, conical in shape, was created from spruce wood. Inside, great logs of an old oak tree supported the construction.

Stoick stepped to the two large wooden winged doors enforced with metal bindings and pushed them open with ease.

Inside, he passed a giant bear's pelt curtain that was used to stop cold air from coming inside and headed towards the centre. While walking, he scanned the surroundings. The interior was quite dark; the few small windows didn't let much sunlight inside. Long dining tables were scattered around, plates and cups present on them. Unfinished meals and half empty mugs could be seen. People were eating when the fight had begun. The usual noise of fishermen who had finished their duties and should be present at this time was replaced by the eerie silence. Even the barmaid usually present behind her bar desk couldn't be seen anywhere. She was helping outside like the others. There was nobody besides a small group of people having an agitated discussion. Stoick's steps were almost inaudible on the stone floor. For a man of his size, he moved very quietly.

"No, we must increase lumber extraction from th' western side. Winter is comin', and we need t' stow as much as we can!" boomed the voice.

"Trees on that side are our only natural barrier against the dragons' attacks! The terrain is too steep to build any wall there, we don't even have the resources to do that!" the other voice shouted.

"Your problems ar' nothin' compared to our lack of food. How will we survive the winter if a lot 'f our herd is taken away by those beasts?"- another one said.

"Stop winding, Crabslap, since we hav' found caves near th' village t' hide them, most 'f them survives th' raids,"- a deep voice from the table added mockingly.

Now, what was happening could be counted as a conversation, though a very loud and extremely disordered one that involved a lot of flying objects and impolite naming of other people's body parts, concentrating on one in particular. What happened after that comment was that all of the men present around the table started to shout, scream and yell their point of view, presenting their ideas by using the biggest looking weapons they had at their disposal. It was looking like this civilized exchange of thoughts would change into an even more civilized bar brawl, one that usually ended with a few people losing their limbs and getting a nasty headache at the end of it. A headache that complemented the usual one resulting from tavern visits.

Stoick emerged from the darkness and stopped near the table. All people present silenced and hastily created two rows, each standing on the larger side of the table. The board was rectangular in shape and had a few big candles standing on it. The light from them illuminated small pieces of leather scattered across the desk without any order. At closer inspection this leather turned out to be small pieces of dragon's hide, various in colour but all the same rectangular shape and size. The process of producing such writing surface involved cleaning, bleaching and stretching the skin on a frame. Skins then were scraped with hemispherical knives before being wetted and dried. This was repeated until the leather was tense enough to write on.

The process also involved acquiring those skins. This was a very simple task. You went, you took a hide, and you came back. The problem arose when the owner of the hide decided that giving its own skin away would cause a few rather major health implications. That usually led to the conclusion that biting a few Vikings' heads off was not such a bad idea to show how much the owner was attached to his own skin and would not give it out willingly.

Volunteerism was highly appreciated by Vikings but, sadly, rather uncommon among dragons.

All the leather hides were filled with runes. Most people in Europe thought that Vikings could not read or write. Most of these Berk Vikings could, however, and it was common for the young ones to learn it.

Near the table only two chairs were present, one on each side of it. One was empty, but in the other an old woman could be seen. She was very small, even for a female. She had a large fur coat that covered her whole upper body. Her old face, wrinkled and skinny, looked like there was only skin attached to the skull. Her eyes were closed and it looked like she was sleeping. From her neck, countless necklaces were hanging, each with fangs, feathers, gems or other items attached. Her long, grey hair fell down her back, folding on her shoulders as she was sitting. Her hands were resting on wooden armrests that ended with a sculpture representing a dragon's head. On the left side of her chair leaned a very old-looking wooden cane. It was decorated with a single necklace dangling from the top of it. Large fangs were hanging from it, definitely a dragon's.

Stoick stood on the other side of the table near his chair. The chieftain looked at each of the faces present around the table before turning his gaze at the old woman in front of him.

He bowed his head and said with respect, "Elder."

The woman didn't react at first, but after a few moments her eyes opened slowly. She had grey eyes that matched her hair in colour. Inside them, intelligence and wisdom glistened. She did not say anything, just smiled a little. After that, her eyes closed and her face returned to the calm expression she had before.

Stoick, like it was some sort of signal, took a seat and, this time, addressed the people on both sides of him.

"Let's begin," he said in his usual tone.

One of the men immediately stepped over and stood on the leader's right-hand side. He was wearing a grey fur jacket, beneath white woollen tunic could be seen. He wore brown leather trousers and black leather boots. On his face, he had a dark short moustache and a few scars. His brown eyes were completely emotionless. If Stoick's eyes could be compared to the ones of the hawk, his were like that of the shark. Eyes that didn't show anything. On his head, a helmet glowed, gold in colour. He handed a few small leather hides to Stoick now.

"Reports from northern an' western parts 'f th' town," he said.

"What 'bout th' others, Spitelout?" Stoick asked, eyeing the skins in his hand.

"We ar' still waitin' for it, messengers should be here soon." The Second-in-Command answered.

Spitelout was Stoick's brother, and his blood status gave him this position. He was, right after Gobber, the leader's most trusted man. Even though he wanted to be the chief himself and he wasn't hiding it, he was a very loyal and a very good warrior. Stoick valued honesty highly, and so he valued him.

The next half of the day was spent in discussion concerning things like how many materials they needed to rebuild the houses, resources they needed to buy from neighbour tribes, the amount of food that should stored before the winter, the safest paths to pasturing grounds and many more.

It was getting dark outside when all the men besides Stoick left. He looked at the rune-filled skins in his hand one last time and then spoke to the woman in front of him.

"Elder, I hav' a request," he started. When she didn't even move he went on, "Please give me th' blessing to start another search for the dragons' lair. We can do I it, I can feel it! I just need a few people, one _drakkar _will be enough! We can leave tomorrow, I hav'…," he paused as the woman just raised one of her skinny fingers in the air. The Elder opened her eyes and started talking.

Even though she was old, her voice was melodious and held silent power.

"Stoick the Vast, don't b' so quick with giving orders yet. Only fools rush without any plan and ya ar' not a fool, are ya Stoick?"

The face of the Chieftain didn't show any emotions.

The Elder continued in a softer tone " I know only a month passed since your wife passed to Valhalla, but rushing into mindless fightin' won't help th' others. It could help ya to forget sorrows for th' moment but would just bring more evil than good t' others. Don't forget you are th' Leader, and what you want is always less important than the well-being of others."

Stoick's face remained emotionless, his fists clenched on the armrests.

"Many days and many battles, warrior," the woman finished, and closed her eyes again.

After that, Stoick bowed deeply and left, eyes glistening in the dark, filled with anger. He knew he couldn't lead another expedition without the blessing from the Gods. Only the Elder could communicate with them, and she had that power over him.

The funerals begun as planned in the evening. The whole village gathered, giving their last respects to those who had died. There were four bodies covered in canvas. Women lamented in front of them, men stood aside, grieving in silence. Stoick gave the speech in a memory of the fallen. After that, the villagers paid their last respects as the remains were put into a small, ceremonial boat, rich in painted pictures and carvings. The sail was set, and the boat started its last journey towards the hiding sun. After it was far away from the shore, at Stoick's signal, archers shot burning arrows at the vessel, that soon went up into flames. A column of smoke started drifting up in the air. Fire reflected in the eyes of the gathered. Afterwards, people started going back to their houses. Life went forward.

Spitelout, who was standing near Stoick, turned to him.

"We've finished gathering th' dragons' bodies. What do ya want t' do with 'em?" he asked.

Stoick was still looking at the small burning boat that was now only a dying light without seeming to notice his brother.

"Same as usual: take their skins, fangs and anything you will find useful, burn the rest", he said with a voice full of loathing and hatred.

"What about the meat. We could…?"

"No, burn them, burn them 'til nothin' remains"

* * *

Stoick entered his house a few hours after the sun had hidden behind the horizon. He was welcomed by silence. The fire had already died in the hearth, only a few embers were still glowing weakly with a yellowish light.

Kneeling, he grabbed a few logs of wood and threw them into the fireplace. He took a small metal bar and moved them a little to make the fire start faster.

One big room constituted the lower part of the house, crossed with wooden beams supporting the construction. On the farther side of the room a table stood with a few chairs around it. One chair had a higher sitting place than the others. In front of the chair right next to it, on the table, there was a plate with a meal on it.

Stoick sighed and started walking up the stairs to the upper part of the house. He stopped at the first door, took a deep breath, and walked inside.

The room was a very simple one. On the nearly unfurnished left side, near the small window, a small desk stood. Books and rune-covered hides spread over it, a few pencils sticking out from under the pile of drawings.

On the wall ahead, there was a small cupboard with even more books placed in it. Darkness filled the room, only a small glow of light came inside from the tiny window. The bed, large but simple, was placed on the left side. A white leather cover hanged loosely from it. On top of it a young boy was sitting. From the look of him, he must have been six or seven years old. He had red hair like his father, but compared to his parent's, his had some hints of brown in it. His big green eyes were shining in the dimmed room. A light green woollen tunic covered his arms and chest, halfway up his neck. His leggings, matching in colour, ended with two small brown leather boots.

Neither of them spoke at first.

Stoick thought of what to say and finally decided on, "How ar' ya son?"

The boy answered almost immediately with his high and childish voice.

"Fine, dad,"

Stoick thought again about what to say.

"Hav' ya gone t' healer's house for th' bandage change?" he asked.

The boy again responded almost instantly

"Yes, dad,"

"Good," was the only reply Stoick gave to his son.

He stood there for a moment more, trying to find anything to talk about with the boy. Suddenly he clapped his hands together and said:

"All right, if ya'll need anythin' jus' let me know. I'll be…um.. near," he finished clumsily.

The small boy just nodded his head in confirmation.

Then Stoick closed the door and exhaled deeply. He really tried to love this boy, but he just didn't know how to feel about him. He was trying to tell himself that it wasn't the boy's fault. It was just an accident. It was nobody's fault. Just an everyday event in the life of the Viking and, just as every Viking, he should go on with his life. Wasn't it a joy when your loved ones passed to Valhalla? Today, he had given a speech at the funeral, one about unity and strength. He spoke about ideals left to them by their ancestors. The inevitability of death and the example that it gave to the living. About the hope and vengeance on those responsible. So why he didn't feel good around his people anymore, like he was powerless? Why didn't these principles, their fore-fathers left them, make their life better? Why did his words about the dead that used to make him feel proud suddenly now made him feel empty? He couldn't believe in hope anymore, even though he tried really hard.

There was one thing that he could do, however. He would get his revenge on the ones responsible. He would kill and slaughter without mercy. When his blood thirst was satisfied he would be able to love his son again.

_And stop hatin' him_, he reasoned, but rejected this thought. He loved his boy, he was sure of it. It was just… hard sometimes to do it.

Stoick raised his hand and massaged his temple.

_I need t' drink_, he decided and headed to the doors, opened them and vanished into the darkness.

He did not see that the meal on the table was untouched or that drawings on his son's desk were clumsily picturing a woman with brown hair and green eyes. He did not notice that the boy's eyes were red and the skin under them puffed. He was not aware about the bloodstained bandages hidden beneath the bed or the creak of the door opening and the small head observing him as he was leaving. He did not know that.

He did not want to know, not today.


	3. Another Day in Paradise

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters (they own me!). They belong to Dreamworks and Cressita Cowell.

AN: 1 elbow= roughly 60 cm. I also apologize for calling Andrzej Sapkowski a master of fantasy. It **won't **happen again. He is an **archmaster** of fantasy! Thank you.

I am someone who really likes tea... with sugar... loads of sugar...and lemon juice, but no milk! Stirred, not shaken. My name is Review... Read and Review.

Now more seriously. As I am a non-native speaker please point out any mistakes you might encounter. Caution advisable, but don't worry, my mistakes do not bite. They swallow whole. I also have 'exotic' turns of phrases (as Fjord Mustang called them) at my disposal, but they swallow and then spit out... sometimes.

* * *

**A few months later**

Gobber had a knife on his throat.

It was early morning, and he was standing in his bedroom looking at his reflection in the water. He had a small bowl filed with water and was looking down at it. All of Vikings' houses had one near the bed. He used it to wash his face in the morning but, correctly placed, it could be used as a mirror as well. The sharp knife was moving up and down his throat getting rid of the facial hair that managed to grow over the night. After finishing, he turned his face, looking at it with a critical eye.

"You ar' more handsome than Loki himself," he said out loud cheerfully. He then laughed at his own joke and grabbed the pincer-like device that lay next to the bowl. He put it into the apparatus on his arm stump and twisted it, securing it. He took the fur coat hanging from the chair and left his house situated near the forge. He would not be going to his workplace now; he had a few things to do first.

Hobbling in his usual manner, he went down to the docks quietly whistling some song without a tune.

The docks, at least part of them, were located near the cliff. The part that Gobber was in now mainly consisted of many wooden platforms that curved above the water. It looked from above like some kind of small labyrinth. This part was mainly used by fishermen, their drakkars and smaller boats moored to the post jutting out from between the desks.

The blacksmith was currently in the middle of the maze, making his way towards the man that was standing in the front of the construction. He took a deep breath of the morning breeze. He enjoyed the smell of the salt, the sounds of the water passing beneath him, and the sight of the ships gently wobbling.

The man in front of him was standing, facing the horizon where a few of the fishermen's boats still were. Upon hearing Gobber's foot-peg steps knocking on the wood, he turned. He had black hair and a moustache, brown eyes looking from beneath dark brows. He wore the usual Viking silver helmet on his head and the usual not-so- pretty Viking look on his face.

"Mornin', Crabslap,"the blacksmith greeted cheerfully.

"Hello, Gobber," he answered and added quickly, "What brings ya her'? Another fish-net ya want t' steal from me t' feed those stupid beasts?"

His tone wasn't very friendly and Gobber tried not to be bothered by it. But he didn't like being called a thief even if it had only been implied, not said. He did not let his feelings show on his face, though, and decided he would just let Crabslap talk until he was satisfied. As predicted, very soon Crabslap continued.

"Ya know how hard it is to manage winter storage? We ar' starving here, an' we almost don't hav' any food left!"

_Ah yes, it didn't stop you yesterday from devouring an amount that would satisfy a few families,_ Gobber thought.

"I can give you some fish leftovers, they smell a little, but those devils should be satisfied with that. I really don't have any fresh fish now," Crabslap said, raising his hand defensively.

As to agree with how "truthful" he was, from one of the passing drakkars a voice boomed.

"Nice catch today, Crab! One of the best this month!"

Gobber slowly turned his gaze from the boat to the Warehouse Master. He had a very sheepish smile on his face.

The blacksmith, of course, knew he was bluffing from the beginning; he could have called out Crabslap's lie at any moment, but he didn't do it. Crabslap wasn't the bright type, and Gobber knew arguing with him was like trying to argue with a goat. Goats, at least, had a more intelligent look on their face, a cute wet nose and you could pet them. The only thing that could correspond with Crabslap was that he had a wet nose, occasionally, if he caught a cold. The blacksmith could ignore most of his character faults, but there were two things he couldn't overlook, and he hated them immensely.

The person in front of him happened to show both of these things.

Gobber hated liars and hypocrites. Putting his muscled arm around Crabslap's shoulders, he began in what seemed a very friendly tone

"You ar' so generous! I almost can't hide my excitement. My whole body is tremblin' when I think 'bout it," Indeed his arm was trembling, but from other reasons than excitement.

"R-Really?" Crabslap asked a little surprised, believing that blacksmith had bought his lie.

"Oh, yeees," Gobber answered, making sure to put a lot of emphasis in it.

The Warehouse Master's face brightened with a smile. The blacksmith continued.

"Nothing possibly could bring me more joy than some rotting fish heads and bones. The smell and the look of it- pure pleasure!" he said it like he was describing some excellent dish. His brows furrowed, like he was thinking about something, "And you can even keep yourself busy by hunting the maggots swirling in it!" he finished.

Then he started to laugh loudly, still holding Crabslap with his arm. The Warehouse Master just smiled rather nervously. After Gobber finished his rant, he put the top of the pincers carefully near his eye and wiped a nonexistent tear.

Suddenly the blacksmith's arm strengthened his grip so that the person he was holding could barely breathe. The voice in which Gobber was talking now was serious and dark.

"But, ya see, something happened after ya gave me those leftovers of yours last time. Dragons do not mind eating it, oh no, but imagine..." he then put his metal contraption in front of Crabslap's face and zigzagged it, gesticulating with every word uttered. The Warehouse Master's eyes were following it with a frightened look.

Gobber continued, " Imagine my surprise, that when I fed it to one of Terrible Terrors, it started to twist in agony. It turned out that some of th' fish were filled with metal scraps. Very sharp ones."

Gobber remembered it exactly. At first this dragon only bled from its mouth. After a few hours, it bled from its back end as well. Its expression was truly pathetic. It was lying on the ground in its own blood and intestinal fluids, breathing unsteadily and shallowly, a small trail of blood coming from its mouth.

When he came near it, it didn't have the strength to lift its head and just eyed him with a pleading look. He took out the dagger from his pocket and ended the poor creature's suffering, but before he did it, he petted its head gently, as if to tell it that everything would be ok. He didn't know why he did it but he did.

He would never admit it but he liked that dragon and so he pitied it. Those poor beasts had suffered enough in their life. He did not mind them dying in battle, no. They needed dragons to train young warriors. It was the war, he knew the rules of it very well.

However, dying in your own blood, bleeding from every hole in your body and shitting out your bowels piece by piece was a death that was not only humiliating in his eyes, but completely unnecessary and cruel.

Sometimes, he wondered who was really worse: humans or dragons.

At the memory of it, he felt a very well-known adrenaline rush and he welcomed it. His arm tightened his hold even more, making Crabslap's ribs creak under pressure.

"I can't imagine who would do such a thing. Maybe somebody that wanted to decrease the food supply consumption?" he asked, rhetorically, barely hiding the anger from his voice. The Warehouse Master's face twisted in fear.

"Y-you don't hav' any proof," he said trying to keep his voice steady and to preserve the remains of his dignity; but as he was trembling, it was quite a futile attempt.

"I never said it was ya," Gobber said absent-mindedly. Crabslap's face now had two red points on it, blooming redder from embarrassment with every passing second.

Gobbers continued, "But thank ya for admitting it. Now, listen very carefully you chicken dung, and make your rotten brain remember what I'll say,"- he dropped his head lower and started to speak in a threatening whisper.

" If ya _ever_ again question my need of fresh food for the dragons, I'll make sure Stoick knows about it and-," he was squeezing Crabslap so hard now the man couldn't breathe, ",-and if ya try to add any special "ingredient" into even one little sprat, I'll come back with those small metal fragments ya was so kind to provide me with an' shovel them down your throat personally!"

"Ar' we clear?" he finished, letting Crabslap go. The Warehouse Master was blue in the face, gasping for air.

Gobber made his way to the fishermen who had just arrived.

"How ar' ya today?" he roared cheerfully.

All the men and a few women onboard started to shout back greetings, some already inviting Gobber for a drink. It wasn't a secret that Gobber was very well liked in the village.

"Can I have some fish for the dragons? The Warehouse Master here just agreed t' it and said I can have as much as I want. Didn't ya, Crabslap?"

He was looking at Crabslap now with a determined look on his face.

The Warehouse Master answered in a voice washed out from any emotions, "Give him whatever he wants,"

The fishermen gave to Gobber the biggest net he could lift and wished him a good day. The blacksmith thanked them and assured them he was on for a few drinks in the evening.

When leaving, he made sure to gaze at Crabslap with a look on his face that showed his total disgust.

The second part of the docks was located at Gobber's left. This part was used mainly by traders that were coming here, and for Berk's knarrs. If drakkars were counted as the medium size longboat, knarrs were the large cargo ships. Drakkars were different in shapes, but mainly they were sleek, a long, narrow boat with a shallow draft. They were designed for speed. Knarrs were bigger, had a deck and goods were stored inside the boat. Both could've been propelled by wind or by rowing. While escaping from dragons, the Outcasts, or any other enemy it was quite advisable to use both.

Most of merchants had stopped coming to the island after the war started, and most of the knarrs weren't used anymore, since Berk didn't have much to trade with in the first place.

On the shore side, a large building could be seen without a wall on the ocean's side. The empty space was now covered in a leather curtain that was lifted when a new ship was about to be launched. It was the Ingerman's work-shop. They were the best of Berk's boat manufacturers.

Gobber made his way towards the stone bridge that separated the Kill Ring from the other part of the hill. To be able to find your way there from the dock, you had to go up the cliff and up to the Mead Hall, turn right after it and head towards the mountain whose top looked like it was about to fall down. Then you had to take a quick stroll through the forest, go up another hill, take the first path to the left, go up for three hundred steps more and, voilà, you were there.

As safety was for the Vikings a primary concern, they never put the safety bars on the sides of bridges. If you were walking on it, above the six hundred elbow deep abyss, at least you had this strong and heart-warming reassurance that if a strong gust of wind made you stumble and fall down, you would not hit this miserable bar with your head. Imagine what health problems it could cause.

The Kill Ring was almost as old as the Town Hall. It was circular in shape as well, but this is where similarities ended. It was built using a larch tree to create the frame on which the granite stone was placed.

The Vikings used a cementlike substance to connect the rocks together. It was a mixture of lime rock, volcanic ash and water. These three commodities were plentiful on the island, and lime rock was one of the export products of Berk. The construction was powerful, and it had to be. The hollow space was separated inside by wide stone walls that created seven compartments in total. If you drew a circle and placed eight lines symmetrically on it, this is how the Kill Ring would look, the only difference being that one of these spaces was used as an entrance.

It had two doors like contraptions. The first one, on the outside side of the ring, was a flap on the ground that opened outside and outwards. It was created from iron bars placed vertically against each other and connected together using rivets. This created a grid half an elbow in width. The second one was exactly the same in design of the grid. The only difference was that it led from the upper wall downwards.

On the ground were holes where the metal bars entered when you closed the doors. The upper part of the circle was used as a viewing ground and, above each cage, there was a lever to open the cage. Also above the cage rested a hemispherical net of chains; it prevented the dragons from escaping.

Currently, there were five dragons in total in the Kill Ring. It was the usual number kept, enough to familiarize the trainees with and just enough to maintain. The front half of the circle was used as cages for the dragons. The two compartments left over were used as storage magazines. The one on the left side were used to keep all the equipment necessary for the training: shields, weapons, some buckets, and the portable walls used to create the maze when training required it. The room on the right was used for all the items you needed for dragon care: spades, pitchforks, some chains and a few dragon restraining and transportation devices of various sizes. The entire room was filled with a hay stack. Hay made it easier to clean after the dragons. Dragons, as every living being, had to take care of their physiological needs. Hay was easier to get rid of it instead of polishing the stone floor every time.

Gobber walked inside the ring and saw the usual group of people waiting for him. They were his helpers. He greeted them cheerfully.

"What took ya so long today?"asked one of them.

"Sorry for that, had a long conversation with Crabslap," he answered grimly, but continued in a brighter tone, "But now I'm here, so let's start the party!"

They took their usual positions. Gobber walked near the first cage. One of the men went upstairs to operate the lock releasing mechanism. The rest of the group took their places above as well, pointing their bows at the cage near which Gobber stood. The blacksmith gave the signal, and the man upstairs pushed the lever. Nothing happened for a moment but then the doors burst open and the dragon emerged from the dense green fog.

_Not so much gas today, I guess it is getting used to it, all the better,_ Gobber thought.

The dragon was quite large, 25 elbows in length and 10 elbows in height. It had two heads round in shape, each equipped with a dense mass of narrow, pointed teeth. At the dragon's back, two tails slashed the air. At the base of each muzzle, a white rhino-like horn jutted out. It had green snake-like eyes. The skin from the top of its head to the end of his tails was toxic green, sparkled densely with black dots. The belly and front part of the necks was yellow in colour. The thick membrane of its wings was green as well. Halfway up each of the wings, one hook-like claw was sticking out.

One of the heads was eyeing the humans, the other one was hissing at Gobber standing in front of it. The beast was known as the Hideous Zippleback. One of the heads was able to breathe out the gas, and the other could produce the sparks that lit the gas, creating a powerful explosion.

After a few moments, it just ran to the farthest possible part of the ring. The blacksmith then took the pitchfork and started cleaning the cage. Used hay was placed on a wooden cart. Each cage had dragon skins covering the walls. It made them more fireproof, and the dragons seemed to damage the cages less. After the hay was replaced, Gobber just let the dragon run a little around the ring. While the dragon was running, Gobber threw some fish inside. Some time later, he just scared the dragon back to the cage by shouting.

Gobber was satisfied; this dragon had only been there for a few months, and it had already gotten used to the drill. In the beginning they had to wet its spark-making head first to scare it enough so it would let them clean the cages without the possibility of getting blasted.

The next cage to the right belonged to the Terrible Terror. Those were smallest of the dragons. Their skin was usually one of various solid colours: orange, red, blue and green. The one that used to live there used to be green in colour. Those dragons had a long muzzle; in front of it were two large nostrils. On top of the snout, a tiny horn was placed and, behind it, were two large yellow eyes. It also had two twisted horns shooting out from above the eyebrows line. The wings were similar to the Zippleback's, with claw-hooks sticking out. Now, after that "incident", the cage was empty. Gobber passed it and hobbled to the cage in the middle.

This one belonged to the Monstrous Nightmare and he would not open it today. He scheduled this for the day after, when he would have more people. This dragon was quite new to the ring. It had been here for only a few days and was making quite a ruckus. Its kind was the most powerful species of dragons known to the Vikings (there was of course the Night Fury, but nobody knew how _that_ looked).

Gobber just lifted the flap situated on the bottom of the doors and threw fish inside it, being careful not to be toasted by the fire that was coming out after each of the fish. The Nightmare was even larger than the Zippleback. It usually was red in colour with brown stripes, but it could vary. It had a long muzzle with a lot of very sharp teeth inside and a small horn shooting out from between two large nostrils. Behind its yellow eyes it had two large horns on each side. The wings were large and the same red in colour. They looked like they were jagged, but it was only the membrane creating such design. On each of the wing's side two talons could be seen. The Zippleback and Terror moved on four paws. However, Nightmares moved using their back paws and the talons on each wing. It might've seemed clumsy on the ground, but it still could move very fast and its defence and strength was enough to kill any human. After feeding it, it was time for the "Old Timers".

These two dragons had been here longer than Gobber himself. Rumours said they were here since the Kill Ring was created.

The blacksmith sighed when he moved to the Deadly Nadder's cage. He gave the sign, and the cage opened. As he expected, the Nadder was lying there, this time on its back, wings unfolded, tongue lolled out, oblivious to the world. The Nadders were medium size dragons. They had a long muzzle that, when closed, looked more like a beak of a bird. Inside were a lot of small pointed teeth. They had a very large horn, hemispherical in shape, sticking out from the muzzle. That horn blocked some of the sight from its yellow eyes. At the back of its skull was located a pointed bone comb protecting the sides of its neck and top of the head. The Nadders were the most colourful of the dragons. They could have almost any colour besides black on their body and various patterns. The one lying here had a blue upper part of the body and a white stomach. Its wings were jagged and the abdomen was yellow in colour. Powerful-looking legs lay on the ground, each equipped with four large curved talons. Its now-motionless tail leaned against the wall. The blacksmith knew the dragon's tail had hundreds of dagger-like scales that not only armoured its tail but that could also be violently thrown with a whip like movement of the Nadder's tail.

Gobber looked at the dragon for a moment. Seeing it didn't even wake up, he said loudly.

"Enough of this beauty sleep, time to wake up, ya overgrown parrot!"

The Nadder opened its one eye. It looked at the human for a second and just turned to the opposite side. Gobber knew it wouldn't be easy with the Nadder, it never was. He looked at the mess in the cage. This one was always making the biggest one.

"Can't ya even keep all your dung in one place, like the others?" he said quietly, more to himself than to the dragon.

The Nadder, as if to answer, lifted its tail and let out a loud fart.

"Aren't ya lovely?" Gobber said ironically.

Then he took one fish from the small net that was near the cage and showed it to the Nadder.

"Look what I got here!"

The dragon, like it was waiting for this moment, got to its feet. Gobber chucked it as far as possible in the middle of the ring. Soon the whole net followed. The Nadder was there faster there than you could say, "Nadders are fast runners!"

Gobber started cleaning the cage while the dragon was devouring its meal with its usual squawking. The blacksmith didn't find its behaviour weird.

This dragon was not normal, it couldn't be. At least this is how Gobber thought of it. Not because it was killing trainees one after the other. To be honest, it almost never killed. It just…. played with them. Gobber thought about the situation that happened just a few weeks back.

The victim was a teenage girl who got separated in the maze created for the day's exercise. Gobber saw the entire situation as he was observing from the above. She was looking at the dead end in front of her with a fearful expression. She wasn't aware that behind her was a silently moving Nadder. She was still looking at the wall, panicked, obviously not knowing what to do. The dragon just furrowed its eyes and looked at the same point behind her as if wondering what was so interesting in that. It got bored quickly and let out a quiet squawk. The girl had been holding her axe. She dropped it to the ground and jumped, frightened. She was now breathing deeply, legs trembling, but she didn't want to turn.

_That dragon had this amused look on his snout, Thor hit me with lightning if it wasn't sneakily smiling there, then_, Gobber thought.

Finally, the girl turned her head very slowly. Upon seeing the dragon behind her, she closed her eyes and started to scream. This wasn't the worst part. The dragon just started to howl in sync with her, imitating her scream. The girl stopped yelling and took another breath. She opened her eyes and looked at the dragon, who stopped howling. She started screaming again, and the dragon followed right along, howling even louder. This time the girl, after running out of breath, decided to faint. The dragon just giggled. This is how Gobber called it, anyway. It seriously sounded like a laugh. After the girl fainted, the dragon just started chasing after the other trainees, giggling like a madman or maddragon.

The girl was still terrified to this day.

The other "event" involved an unfortunate teenage boy. He started panicking and just leaned flat against the wall facing the approaching dragon, legs and arms spread, eyes wide in fear. What could the dragoon possibly do in this situation when having unarmed prey in front of him?

Maybe start some target practice?

And this is exactly what that Nadder did. It started shooting out those dagger-like tail quills. The most frightening was the order in which it was doing it. The first quills landed low, between the boy's legs. He was so frightened that he didn't move. The Nadder just shot out another quill a little higher than previous one, and again and again, each one a little higher. When the quills got near the teenager's crotch, the boy suddenly realized what that dragon wanted to do. He started to cry and whine expecting the final- and very painful blow. He looked at the Nadder, who slashed its tail violently. The boy closed his eyes and wet his pants from fear. But the strike never came. The dragon just stood there, giggling. The terrified teen started crawling to the exit. To this day, he was frightened to show his face in public.

This dragon now running across the ring exercising was, for Gobber, the ultimate tool for turning brave teenage boys and girls into sobbing puddles of despair. These situations had happened when the dragon was in, as Gobber called it "the play mode". But when the dragon was in a worse mood things were not so pretty. It could kill half of the trainees before it was stopped. It was a very fierce warrior and could not be taken lightly. Luckily, such situations were very rare.

After finishing with the Nadder, Gobber moved to the last cage. He disliked this one the most. He didn't know why, but if he had to pinpoint something even odder with this dragon than the others, it would be its eyes. Dragons weren't supposed to look at you that way. Like they can see the bottom of your soul, like they were intelligent and you felt like you were looking at something much more than a deadly animal.

Gobber took a deep breath and gave the sign. The cage opened slowly and, inside, the Gronckle was lying on the hay. Its head was lifted, and it was looking at the blacksmith with those knowing eyes.

The dragon looked like a bumble bee in shape. It had a short muzzle with large pointed teeth inside. Two fangs were seen pointing from between the jaw line. Its short body was brown in colour. It looked like it was covered in yellow warts. It had very small wings, brown as well, that gave it an ability to hover. Its body ended with a short, spiked bulb-like tail.

Gobber didn't have to say anything. The Gronckle just left the cage and started walking and exercising its wings without even taking a glance at the blacksmith. Gobber just started to clean the cage. This one was always the easiest to clean. After he threw fish inside, he was about to shout to get the dragon back but it had already come back to him, waiting.

The blacksmith just took a step back, surprised. He let the Gronckle pass and take its place in the cage. When he was closing it, he saw the dragon still looking at him. Gobber really didn't like that.

As Gobber moved to the exit, something rustled beneath his foot. He lifted it and saw some metal scrap. At least this is how it looked at first sight. He bent down and took it in his hand. It looked like… a dragon, just like the Terrible Terror. There was no denying it and, to Gobber, it looked like the one that died recently. But who would place it here? When he was walking around the cage he would've sworn there was nothing on the ground. The only person here was him and… the Gronckle.

_Did it leave it…?, _Gobber thought, but he just laughed after a second.

_Right! Of course, a dragon would leave ya a piece of iron shaped like a dead dragon_!

He was about to just throw it away but stopped. He looked at this piece of metal for a moment silently, smiled a little, and put it in his pocket.

The next stop was the forge, but before going there Gobber stopped in the Mead Hall for a breakfast. To his surprise, he saw Stoick sitting there. Without any delay, he got his mead, bread and chicken meat, and sat near the Chieftain.

"Hello there, it's a surprise t' see ya here so early!" he greeted affably.

"Good morning Gobber! I just had a meeting with a few fishermen and Crabslap," Stoick answered.

"Oh an' what did he say? Let me guess: no more complaints 'bout how much food we eat?"Gobber said with a smirk.

"How did ya know?"- Stoick answered, surprised, then he laughed loudly and pat his friend's arm strongly.

"I guess news is goin' around faster than I thought," he continued, with a wide smile on his face," He came here an' requested a meeting, I said tha' I'm busy, but he was persistent, so I agreed. I knew that talking to him usually meant listening to his complains and nodding my head, so I wasn't so happy about that, but-," He started to laugh again, even louder than last time," Imagine my surprise when he started to tell me how good we are with our food consumption, that we have already more than enough to survive the winter! All these months the village was living in the fear that we might not make it,"

He paused, Gobber guessed he left the best part for the end, and soon Stoick continued, "And, he said it's all thanks to your, how did he say it- 'illuminating advice'!"

Now Stoick started to laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't because he thought anyone taking advice from Gobber was a fool. Stoick wasn't stupid, and he knew that wasn't normal, "So, tell me, my friend what did ya do to him?" he asked, curiosity in his voice.

"Oh, ya know the usual. Jus' told him what a piece of dragon's crap he really is," Gobber paused for a second and looked at Stoick. Who, of course, didn't buy it and gesticulated for him to tell the rest. Gobber smiled and finished, "An' I might've also almost choked him to death,"

Stoick boomed with laughter, the whole hall looking at him. He wiped the tears that formed in his eyes.

"I knew it! I thought Ragnarok was comin' when he was so nice!"

Gobber looked around and asked, "Where is Hiccup, by the way?"

"Oh. He went to your work shop already. He said he had to check something out," answered Stoick.

Gobber, who was drinking his ale, spat it out at once. Should he tell Stoick that his son was working on the new invention that, as the boy said, "will make him the best dragon killer… ever!". Gobber did not worry about most people, but he was worried about Hiccup. The boy just could not understand that killing a dragon consisted of a few crucial and simple instructions.

1. You lift or swing something heavy or sharp in its direction

until

2. You hit it

and, then,

3. Repeat until it's dead.

For now, Hiccup's inventions were doing more harm to him than to others, but last time he had made a so-called land spike that "will kill every dragon that walk over it". The plan was decent, the execution as well. He just didn't anticipate that dragons are not really walking so often on the ground.

There were few reasons why. Maybe dealing with a Viking swinging his axe madly could have something to do with it. Another theory said that, by flying, dragons found it easier to share their burning love with you. Literally.

Regardless, Hiccup's invention ended up with a few cut-up Viking feet. Gobber didn't want to think what the boy could invent in the future, since he was doing such things at the age of seven.

"What is it, Gobber?" Stoick asked with a concern in his voice.

"Ah, nothin'! I forgot I've somethin' t' teach Hiccup today and that I'm late. Ya know I don't want t' disappoint him," Gobber lied. He hated to do it, but he didn't want to get Hiccup into even more trouble than he already was in.

Gobber finished his meal quickly and waved his goodbye to Stoick. The blacksmith was happy that the chieftain could laugh again, even if rarely and only with few people. It was much better than it used to be, and the blacksmith knew that such things need time to heal. Even if the feeling of loss would never disappear and his friend would never be the same again. Gobber was simply glad to laugh with his friend again.

Near the forge, when he was about to turn into the door, a sturdy boy ran out from the corner. He almost collided with Gobber, but continued to run and howl with laughter.

The blacksmith didn't let it bother him and soon entered his workplace.

The main room was quite small, and it looked even smaller with all the tables standing in it. On each table, different items lay. Pieces of metal in various shape and sizes, weapons, nails, pincers, and much more. Inside the room, near the wall, a large fireplace was placed. Near it, two anvils could be seen. One large and one much smaller. A door leading to the storage area stood at the back of the compartment, concealing even more equipment.

Gobber unbuckled the pincers from his hand and took his usual hammer that he used when working on the anvil. He was about to put on his blacksmith robe made from dragon's skin when he noticed that Hiccup was nowhere to be seen.

_Where is he now_? he thought.

Shortly, he saw a small hand grabbing the table top right next to him, and then a small head with red hair followed. When Hiccup stood up fully, he was pressing his chest with his left hand. He had a painful expression on his face, but he was trying his best to hide it. His eyes glistened, yet he didn't cry.

Gobber noticed it, and asked in a serious, yet gentle, tone.

"What happened, here?"

"Nothing," Hiccup answered without meeting his gaze. He was always a poor liar.

Gobber walked to him and gently pulled up his tunic. Hiccup didn't react in time and the blacksmith saw bandages on his chest that were soaked in red. Gobber was aware that the boy's burns still had not fully healed and even a light blow could open the wounds again. The bandages covered the whole right part of his chest, following down almost to hip height. Bandages also covered his neck and back, but they were hidden beneath the clothes. Hiccup was doing his best to hide it, and the blacksmith wouldn't be surprised if the other kids didn't know about his burns.

"Nice 'nothing' ya hav' there. Care t' tell me what really happened?" Gobber asked.

"I tripped," Hiccup said whilst trying to get his shirt down nervously, still not meeting the blacksmith's gaze.

Gobber now remembered that the boy who almost collided with him while he was coming here was none other than Snotlout. He was quite a big boy for his age, and it happened he was quite a bully as well. It also happened he was Spitelout's son. It was no secret that Spitelout wanted his son to be the next chief of the Hairy Hooligans tribe and no secret, as well, that his son was following his father's wishes. He was doing his best to intimidate and humiliate Hiccup whenever the situation rose.

"Ar' ya sure it had nothin' to do with Snotlout accidently deciding to pay a visit her' when I wasn't around?" Gobber asked, raising his eyebrow.

"I really just tripped! I'm clumsy, you know," Hiccup was now swiping through his hair in a similar way as his father, still pressing his chest and looking at the ground.

Gobber signed, it was always like that. Whenever something happened to Hiccup, he always said that it was an accident, always nobody's fault, just his clumsiness, weakness or stupidity or a mixture of the above. He was indeed clumsy and weak, but he wasn't stupid, and it was always happening when nobody was watching.

Gobber knew he wouldn't win this one. Hiccup was very stubborn, even for a Viking.

He spoke again, this time in a softer tone.

"Very well, so ya tripped, it happens. Let's go to the healer's house for a dressing change,"

Hiccup winced. Gobber, noticing this, knelt then so he could be on Hiccup's height and asked, "Ya don't want your father t' know?"

Hiccup's check flushed with red, but he made an almost implicit nod. Gobber twisted his moustache between his fingers and smiled, "Well, it happens that I know how to change it. If ya want I can do it,"

The blacksmith glanced at Hiccup. The boy's face brightened with a hopeful smile, his eyes and mouth wide open.

"But, ya'll hav' t' promise me something,"

The boy nodded furiously.

"No playing with a hammer for two weeks,"

Hiccup gave a disappointed scowl.

"But I won't be able to do anything, then! How will I be able to kill a dragon? I just need to finish the calculations and…."

Gobber, without waiting him to finish, said, "Okay then, we are going to the healer."

Hiccup grabbed the blacksmith's shirt, "Fine," he said quietly, looking down.

"Good choice, lad. Now let's get those bandages of yours changed. Ya remember what happened when Stoick found out that ya were changing them yourself?"

"Hard not to, since he must've woke up whole village with his shouting,"-Hiccup said sarcastically.

Gobber chuckled, "Very true!"

"How do you know how to change bandages anyway?" the boy asked.

"Oh, ya know, when yer living without arm an' leg for as long as me, ya learn a few things. Now come. I have some bandages and ointment at the back of the shop."

* * *

It was night outside when Gobber entered his bedroom. He had enjoyed a few drinks and he felt a pleasant buzz in his head.

He took off his prosthetic hand and foot and sat on the bed. He threw his leather sack in which he stowed small items to the desk near the bed. He noticed something shiny had fallen out from it as it hit the wood. It was this scrap of metal that looked like the small figure of Terrible Terror. He looked at this for a moment, twisting it between his fingers. Moonlight fell on it, making it gleam in the silver light. The blacksmith placed it carefully on the desk, looked at it for a moment and lay down in his bed.

_It was really a good day, it really was,_ he thought before falling asleep.


	4. Perfectionism Practise

Since I was bored, I came up with a short story as a disclaimer:

The nerd's face loomed over his laptop's screen, the opened text file reflecting in his tremendously wide glasses with rectangular rims.

"I am about to do it," he whispered in an excited voice. He was about to do something more evil than the whole Spanish inquisition could've achieved through its existence.

"My fanfic... I will publish it... without a disclaimer!" he shouted, his hands outstretched and lifted high, laughing maniacally as any self-respecting maniac would.

His trembling finger hovered over the mouse button and sweat poured from his face, an insane grin on it. His finger was about to click the mouse when something overshadowed it. He stopped, his body suppressing a spasm. He now smelled the rosy scents of "The Heat" cologne. His head turned slowly towards the incomer.

"No...I was just joking!" the nerd breathed out in a cracking voice.

Before him stood Toothless in his humanoid form. He wore a meshed muscle-T shirt that revealed a slender, dark- skinned torso. The shirt was vented in back to allow for a pair of huge, velvety black wings. He also wore a pair of knee-length black leather capri shorts, designed with a fashionable opening for his long winged and finned draconic tail.

He had the same toxic green eyes as in his dragon form, complemented by stylishly-shaggy black hair. On his face there was much-too-suggestive smile and from his neck, hung an ID on a silverfish necklace with the words: "Disclaimer Police"

"I can explain! I just-", the nerd started but was quieted by the finger that the humanoid-dragon-thingy pressed to his lips.

"I know you have been very... naughty," Toothless said in a much-too-soothing voice.

The nerd's whole body was now covered in fear sweat. He knew that he was safe... for now. That humanoid-dragon-thingy was only after green eyed, underage, illogically acting, underdeveloped, submissive teens. The nerd didn't match that description, but looking at the holster on Toothless's belt where the legendary 45-calibre Vaseline was kept, he started to strongly doubt his safety.

"You will be good, right?"Toothless continued gliding his fingers on the nerd's face. The nerd was too traumatized to move," Because if not..."

Toothless took out his calibre 45 weapon and made a few skilful flips in the air with it. He caught it deftly and stowed it back in its holster with a clicking sound that would haunt the nerd for the rest of his life.

"Yes... Please go back to your fanfics", begged the nerd, on the verge of tears from this traumatizing experience.

Toothless blew a kiss with his clawed hand, another gesture that would haunt the Nerd's sleep, and he disappeared into a black mist using his Dragon Magic(tm).

From that day on, the nerd published every fanfic with a disclaimer:

I do not own any of the characters. They belong to Dreamworks and Cressita Cowell!

AN: More of the Vikings' measurements: 1 finger=11cm, 1 centar=5 stones=64 kg, 1 stone=30 pounds= 12 kg, 1 pound = 0.4 kg. It is the last introductory chapter. Read and Review please.

* * *

Nine years later

The woods around Berk were silent. The usual wind caressing the leafs of the trees was gone. It was humid and stuffy, the air was almost motionless. The sky was clouded, the usual situation before rain. Thick and dense fog lingered on the ground covering the forest's fleece, swirled and crawled between the trees. Small plants and bushes were sporadically shooting from the white smoke as though the plants were growing out from the clouds,

A snowy owl sat on one of the pine tree branches. Its yellow eyes scanned the ground beneath it. The feathers covering its body were white. No other colour was present since it was a male (females and young birds have their feathers densely scalloped with brown). The male was silently waiting for its prey. He did not need to see it; he only had to hear it. These birds could even hear the prey from beneath the snow and hunt it with deadly precision, even if it was running.

Soon, the owl heard the quiet scraping sounds of its prey, small claws tapping on the ground. It was a yellow-necked mouse. Without waiting a moment, the bird opened its wings and jumped down, soaring silently. It plunged into the fog and very soon emerged with the mouse in its claws. The owl landed on a boulder and lowered its head, ready to eat its prize. However, it heard sounds of something approaching, steady and rhythmical steps on the ground, an odd and calm breathing. It took off from the rock holding the mouse in its beak, knowing very well what was coming.

It was a human.

The human's figure appeared from behind the tree.

It was a girl. You could see her brown leather boots with fur tops moving up and down within the fog. She was wearing blue leather leggings tightly covering her legs, lean but strong muscles working beneath them. From the hip to the upper part of her thigh, a skirt hung. It was made from red leather, cut into stripes, each half a finger in width. Four spiked studs adorned each stripe. A red belt fastened her skirt. On one side of it, a small leather sack shook with her body movements. Around the skirt, just beneath the belt, hung small animal skulls. In reality they were white granite stones shaped like animal skulls. Her father, besides being a warrior, was also a stonecutter. He had made them for her.

She also wore a light green woollen tunic, cut vertically with stripes of brown and darker green. Her forearms bore bracers made from cords wound around them. Similar, thicker cords were also present on her palms, protecting the knuckles and the upper part of the fingers. She did not wear any helmet. Her unbound, golden blond hair floated in the air behind her. Two wisps of hair had fallen loosely on both sides and a long fringe dangled, concealing her left eye. The rest of the hair was held back from her forehead using a leather bandana, decorated with square opals.

Weapons were quietly jangling on her back: an axe, a sword and a wooden stick. Her sky blue eyes looked forward without much focus. Even though the path was covered with mist, she knew every rock and piece of the wood lying there. She had been coming here more times than she could remember. It was the path to her personal sanctuary, a place where she could forget about every worry of this world and just concentrate on the thing she loved the most. Training.

Astrid Hofferson loved to train. It was something she felt from the bottom of her heart. Listening to your body, the feeling of being one with it, making yourself stronger, better. Trying to reach perfection. It became a religion for her. Like every true martial artist she never stopped training at something until she was satisfied with it. And she was extremely hard to please. She had found out long ago that you can achieve almost anything if you work for it hard enough: no matter if it's about how many push ups you can do or how many weak points on a human body you can hit. She had been studying war arts since she was young, not only by training her body but by training her mind as well. She had read all war-related books available in Berk and knew them all by heart now.

She started running faster, dashing and jumping above the rocks and fallen trees. She was getting near her training grounds and it was hard for her to hide her excitement. The tree line ended abruptly. She was now in a large meadow.

On her left side, a few large trees were standing. The first tree from the left was densely marked with cuts and cracks. The one next to it was wrapped from the ground to four elbows height with a thick rope used on ships. The ground near the trees was plain and hard, without any plant growing, the result of countless days of training.

Astrid stopped in front of the trees and started stretching. First her neck, then shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees and, lastly, ankles. After that, she made a split and started to stretch out her leg muscles by grabbing the top of her boots by her hand. She had to be extra sure to do it properly. She couldn't risk a contusion or injury, not now. The dragon training was getting nearer and she had to be the best, again.

Warmed up, she approached the first tree with the rope fastened around it and started strike training. High punch, high punch, low punch, low punch, high elbow strike, low elbow strike. The only sounds on the meadow were those of Astrid's fists connecting with the tree and the sounds of her exhaling her breath whilst striking. For a few moments longer she was just training her hands, making sure all the positions were done correctly and the force was coming out naturally. From time to time she stopped and repeated one of the elements more slowly, whatever the reason was: breathing, power, speed or technique. Everything had to be perfect; there would be no place for mistakes later.

She now added kicks, mixing them with fists. Performing various techniques and sequences she knew. Faster, quicker, stronger, Astrid gazed as though hypnotized, her fists and legs working on a tree trunk.

She was going to win the dragon training, she had to. It was her dream since she was young. Finally, she executed a perfect 360 degree jumping roundhouse kick putting everything she got into it. With a loud yell, her leg connected with a tree. A loud thump echoed in the meadow.

Astrid was breathing heavily, sweat all over her face, but she was smiling. She liked the way her body moved today. There had been days where her body moved in a much worse manner. Even though Astrid was training so hard, she knew her limits. She didn't train when it was too cold outside, or when she was sick or when she got her period. (The physical effect of this time of the month she endured well. The mental effects were what caused the problem: being moody and angry at all the world, she couldn't concentrate enough). After she had sprained her ankle once and broke a finger, she stopped practicing while feeling unfitted. She wasn't stupid; she knew that overdoing things would just destroy your body sooner or later.

After catching her breath, she started training with weapons. Her muscles were trembling from fatigue, but she had planned this. She had to make herself tired before grabbing any weapon. When you are fresh you tend to move with more force and it's bad when you want to learn a new technique. Tired muscles instinctively move in a way that requires less energy and the less energy you use on a battle field, the longer you fight. Since she was a slender girl, she couldn't use the heaviest hammers or maces most men could.

Astrid was never jealous of men's physical strength. Seeing the Viking women warriors around her, she knew they could have as good, or even better technique and agility.

Grabbing the stick, she started doing basics thrusts and swipes. If she wasn't happy with anything , she started doing it again and again and again. After the stick it was time for the sword. The same routine followed.

She saved her favourite one until the end. She took an axe and looked at it, her blue eyes reflecting in the blade. It was a double axe with a one and half elbow long haft, a brown leather cord wrapped around it. It was simple in design and looked as if it had survived many battles. Small cuts and protrusions ran through its surface. This weapon belonged to her mother. Astrid always treated it with respect and took care of it as best as she could.

She started swinging it slowly, using both hands, watching every movement it made. Then she swung it faster. The blade started to cut through the air and sing its deadly melody. Astrid's body was twisting and rotating furiously, performing every slash, twist and thrust perfectly. She didn't even stop for a second to correct anything. She didn't have to. Now that the tree was behind her back, without even taking a glance, she threw the axe so that it revolved in the air and staved deeply into the tree, right in its centre. Panting, she looked at it with a satisfied smirk.

She did not smile often, but today she had a reason for it. Everything was going as planned and Astrid was always making sure everything was going in the way she wanted.

After gathering all the weapons and fastening them across her back with a leather belt, she started walking down back to the village.

The mist was already gone, and the wind started blowing again. In the sky, clouds darkened slightly but it wasn't raining yet. As she was walking a path near the village a loud voice called behind her.

"Oy, babe, wait up!"

Astrid face palmed.

_Why today? Everything was going so well,_ she thought bitterly

Her teeth and fists clenched, and she started walking even faster. Astrid had met this person too many times already and she counted every contact with him as a wasted one. Soon she heard his running footsteps behind and a human figure passed her. A teenage boy, tough in appearance, now leaned on a tree in front of her with one hand, gasping for air. He started spitting out between deep breaths. It looked disgusting.

"Oh, man, I thought I'd die back there. You could've waited for me" he spoke, still leaning on a tree.

Astrid looked at his face, an obviously runny nose and below the lip, still visible saliva. He, obviously had time to spit but not to wipe his face.

_Here he is, Snotlout in all his glory. Oh, hear ye and tremble,_ she thought with irony.

Snotlout was out for his morning training as well. He wore brown leather boots and brown woollen leggings in a similar colour. On his vast chest, he wore a light green leather tunic and a vest made from dark reindeer fur. A silver helmet enforced with metal rivets rested on his head. His dark brown, forever-greasy hair fell down to his ear height. He had light grey eyes and a large flat nose. His lips were shaped into a much-too-much-confident-smile. Astrid called it the "Hey-look-I'm- missing-a-few teeth-and-my- breath-stinks" smile. Quite a long name but very adequate, as Snotlout indeed was missing a few teeth, lost in some fight (according to him, anyway). He was apparently not aware of the distinct possibility that taking care of your teeth would decrease the odour. And make, if not a few girls, at least a few goats, interested in him. Always a good start.

Also, the last time they had met here he had tried to swing his arm around her. Astrid persuaded him out of it by spraining his wrist. And added a few kicks free of charge. She was always very generous when it came to hitting somebody. This time she promised herself that if he tried to touch her, she would give him a full sell out.

"Where are ya goin' ?" Snotlout asked.

Before Astrid could even think about what to answer on how delighted she was to meet him, he continued.

"You know, I've been running all morning today. I've run around the village for ten times already, but you know I don't want to be too tired. Want to come run with me sometime? I promise I'll go easy so you can keep up" He finished with his gap toothed grin.

Astrid doubted a few things. First: did Snotlout even know how much ten was? She always though he could not count more than five. Secondly: circling the village 10 times would take him half a day or more. She knew it, she had already done it. Thirdly: he was deluded that she would not be able to keep up with him. The scary fact was that he actually believed it. Some people just can't see farther than their nose. Snotlout had a rather big nose, so he didn't have problems with that.

Astrid looked at him and saw sacks filled with most probably sand weighting his forearms and ankles. Snotlout had only one thing that she respected: he was never negligent towards the training. Astrid was sure he would be much better at it if he stopped trying to show off every three seconds or so.

Astrid, surprised by the sudden period of silence looked back at his face. Her eyes furrowed dangerously. As usual, he was looking with his unfocused eyes at her chest area. Astrid had her chest tightly wrapped in bandages. It was easier to keep your balance when you didn't have anything swinging too much from your chest. The binding made her breasts look much smaller and she silently hoped boys would stop looking at them so much.

Astrid suspected that there was a switch in most men's brain that on one day clicks on and makes them look at everything with the same lustful desire. She wasn't far from the truth.

Snotlout was still looking brazenly. Astrid crossed her arms, ready to kill him at any moment. Snotlout's brain must've noticed the sudden difference in the area he was looking at, as he started to move towards her.

"I'm going to go eat something now. I'm sure you would like to..." he was already lifting his hand to swoop her in a possessive grip.

Astrid was waiting for this. She was already playing with the buckle on her leather belt that held her weapons together. She unlocked it and, before the weapons even hit the ground, she twisted in a lightning motion and did a 180 degrees turn, finishing with her elbow hammering into Snotlout's solar plexus. He was lifted off the ground from the force, fell on his back and rolled once, finishing gracefully on his face.

Without hesitating, Astrid took her weapons and passed his motionless body, not even looking at it. To her annoyance after a few moments she heard a muffled voice.

"So see you later?"

Astrid took a deep breath and contained her murderous intentions to go back and break an arm or two.

She made her way to her home quickly, and luckily, undisturbed. She entered her house and yelled.

"Good morning, mom!"

Her house was a standard Viking house with a ground floor made as one large kitchen and living room and had stairs leading to the first floor where the bedrooms were placed. In front of the stone oven, a woman stood. She had long blond hair similar to Astrid's but with a few grey strands. Her face was still beautiful, even with a few wrinkles marking it. Her face ahd a very peaceful look, only emphasized by her deep blue eyes.

"Good morning, Astrid" she greeted with a quiet voice.

Astrid, without any word hugged her, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Why don't you clean yourself after training? Breakfast will be ready soon" Astrid's mom suggested.

"Sure, mom" Astrid agreed.

She took a large bucket that was lying near the oven and went outside. Near the roof, a large barrel was standing. It was used to gather the rainwater. Every house had one or two barrels like that. With a village surrounded by ocean access to sweet water was quite limited. You could go to the mountains and take some from the brooks, but since it was raining quite often, that was not necessary.

Astrid filled the whole bucket with water and went into the house again, going upstairs. She grabbed fresh clothes from her room and entered the second one. It was a small room that had a small stool inside it and some clay flasks on a small shelf mounted to the wall. Astrid took a larger one and poured a little of it into the water. The room filled with a pleasant mint aroma.

She took off her clothes and started untying her bracers. When she was pulling a cord from her left hand knuckles, she hissed in pain. On the cord dried blood could be seen. By removing the strap she had opened her wounds. Blood dripped down her palm as she placed her hand carefully in the water. She sighed with relief: the water was cool and decreased the pain.

Astrid started carefully massaging the bones with her right hand, searching for any abnormality. She eased, sensing that no bone seemed to be cracked or broken. She did the same with her right hand, this time being more careful.

Finished, she took a small woollen piece of cloth lying on the shelf along with a small white lump of soap. It was Astrid's pride and joy, a soap that was bought by her long ago from the one of the travelling merchants. It was made from palm oil with addition of aloe.

She sat on a stool and started scrubbing her body. One of the many myths about Vikings was that they weren't into bathing. It wasn't true, they were bathing at least every week. However, most of them cleaned themselves every day. There was a reason that Sunday was sometimes called "laugardagur", the "washing day". Nearly every house had a sauna near it, and it was used quite often. After cleaning herself, she put on a fresh set of clothes and went down.

Breakfast was ready. It was oat porridge with dried peas in it. Astrid sat down and started eating it, observing what her mother was doing.

Her mother knelt in front of the oven and opened the small door at the base of it. Then she tried to grab a bigger log of wood to put into fire, but it just slipped out from her grip and hit the floor. She tried again but her right hand couldn't move properly; it was unnaturally limp. When she was about to try for a third time, Astrid just ran over and lifted it.

"I'll do it mom, just relax, please" Astrid said while throwing the wood into the fire.

"Thank you, dear" she answered with a sad smile.

Astrid felt her heart ache. She hated seeing this smile. Before she was born, her mother's hand had been crushed in one of the dragon raids.

Saldis, her mother, used to be an extremely skilled warrior and, after that accident, she had lost the thing she loved the most: her warrior's agility.

Sometimes, when she thought that Astrid was sleeping, she took her axe and practiced with it. Her moves couldn't be as swift and fast as they used to be. The axe would fall from the impaired hand on the ground. Astrid would watch as her mom started to sob quietly.

Astrid remembered it every time her mom smiled like that. Because of this, Astrid had promised herself she would become a great warrior -for her mother.

"What happened to your hands, Astrid?" Saldis asked in a worried voice.

Astrid blinked, moving out from her thoughts.

"Just a little injury when I was practicing today. I guess I'm getting stronger" she said with a little pride, hoping it would make her mother happy. But her mother wasn't looking happy. She looked worried and sad.

_Why is she looking sad now? Doesn't she want me to be stronger? You are not trying hard enough, Astrid_" she thought, making a mental note to try even harder next time.

"Astrid, I think…" Saldis begun,

"Yes, mom?" Astrid answered expectantly.

Saldis hesitated. Should she tell her daughter that she did not want her to injure herself just for a thing that happened to her mother in the past? They had talked about it many times already. Astrid kept ignoring it, saying she would continue with her training.

There was a moment of silence.

_I just want to make mom happy again, _Astrid thought, trying to look busy with the food_._

Astrid finished her breakfast and decided to change the topic.

"Where is dad, mom?"

"In his workshop" Saldis replied stirring the soup.

"Um... I'll go there, maybe he needs my help."

Astrid thanked for the meal and left hurriedly, trying not to look at her mom. Saldis just sighed. She knew that Astrid just wanted to have an excuse to leave.

"What should I do?" she asked to the now silent room.

* * *

It had started to rain a little. Astrid didn't plan to go meet with her father first. She quickened her pace and soon arrived at her destination.

The house in front of her wasn't one you would count as beautiful. The wooden roof was looking like it's a miracle it was still standing- mixed wood of many trees pieced together without much thought. A few holes from dragon fire were fixed negligently. The house had a small, wooden fence around it and an occasional cackle betrayed what lived behind it.

Astrid opened the wicket gate and shouted, "Ruffnut, are you there?"

There came a muted girl's voice.

"Behind the house."

Astrid walked the small pathway in the grass that led to the rear part of the building. Chicken ran away from under her feet cackling loudly and flapping their wings.

Turning at the corner, she saw something that resembled an open work building. The roof was flat and was supported at the front by two simple wooden columns. Its rear part was connected to the house.

Beneath it, you could see that the space was fully filled with various pots, jugs, teapots, plates and anything you could think that could be made from clay. Two potter's wheels were placed in the middle of it. That was the only place in the entire house that looked in decent shape.

In front of the one of the wheels, a girl was sitting. She had long blond hair that was almost white in colour and tied in many braided bundles hanging from both sides of her head. Her face, usually bearing a devious grin, now was furrowed in concentration. Her blue-grey eyes were looking at the clay rotating on the wheel. Her fingers touched it gently, creating the shape she desired.

She was wearing a light yellow leather vest and a forever present necklace featuring one of a Nightmare's fangs. Her legs were covered in brown leather leggings. On her foots, light blue fur boots could be seen.

"Where is Tuffnut?" Astrid asked casually. He was usually here working, but Astrid hoped silently he wouldn't be here.

To her relief she heard, "Dunno, probably with Snotlout somewhere"

Astrid took a seat on one of the chairs and looked at her friend's work. It was something Astrid couldn't do. She was a little jealous of this ability to create anything you desired from a shapeless chunk of clay.

Ruffnut was propelling the wheel using her feet and moistening her fingers from time to time, using the water in the bucket near her.

"Almost done here, sweetie" she said while still looking at the clay.

Astrid didn't answer, continuing to look at Ruffnut's work. Astrid liked to observe potters, wood-carvers or blacksmiths. There was something amazing in giving nonmaterial things the shape and functions you wanted them to have. Knowing that people would use it or look at it was like giving a part of yourself into your creation.

Ruffnut finished and eyed her new creation critically: a tall and slim-looking vase made from the white clay.

"It looks beautiful" Astrid said.

"Could've been better" Ruffnut said without much care.

Then she took a small piece of metal that looked like a knife and started creating lines and curves in the still wet clay. After just a few moments she was done, the normal speed for somebody so experienced. Ruffnut took the finished vase and placed it carefully on one of the shelves where other pottery was drying. Later it would be put into the kiln.

Ruffnut started cleaning her hands of the clay and looked at Astrid sitting in a chair, head on her hand gazing absent-mindedly. Ruffnut approached her and flicked her forehead with a finger.

"Ouch!" Astrid yelled.

"Stop worrying so much or you'll get wrinkles" Ruffnut said whilst taking a place next to her.

"I'm not worrying" Astrid said shortly, massaging her brow.

"Yeah, whatever, so what happened this time?"

"Nothing."

"If you won't tell me, I'll make you say it."

Astrid was just sitting when she felt fingers moving on her waist. She immediately started laughing.

"Hey, no tickling!" Astrid said trying to keep the laughter back.

Ruffnut was just circling around her with a deceitful grin.

"I believe you wanted to tell me something..?"

"I have nothing to say!" Astrid looked away.

"I happen to know your weak point: you know very well you _will_ tell me, sooner or later" Ruffnut said, and rushed at Astrid.

For the next few minutes, the girls were running around laughing, with Ruffnut trying to tickle Astrid whenever possible. It ended with Astrid on the ground, Ruffnut sitting on her torturing her mercilessly with her fingers. Astrid soon gave up and told Ruffnut about everything bothering her.

* * *

It was already noon and it had stopped raining now. Water was dripping from the wooden roof to the ground, creating small puddles.

"So, again you are thinking too much about this whole dragon training," Ruffnut said while handing Astrid cut apples on a plate.

"I can't help it, I really wish I would win this one and change things for me and..."

"Your family, yes I know," Ruffnut finished while munching the apple, "What is the big deal about you being an immigrant? You are proud about not wearing a proper Viking helmet, but your family has been here for two generations already and I don't notice _you_ are treated any differently."

"Because I AM the second generation, but my mom and dad are not treated as citizens of Berk. We need to live on outskirts of the village, my dad needs to pay a tenth of his earnings every month to the village council and they are not allowed to any meetings or gatherings," Astrid said sadly, playing with her hair absent-mindedly. After a moment she continued "It's not really that I'm proud not to wear a helmet, but how I can relate to a village that is treating my parents in this way? I don't need to be treated in any special way. "

"Sweetie, you know very well your parents are not allowed to gatherings just because of some old law that is "testing" if some family is "worthy". Most of the meetings are boring anyway. So, tell me again, after winning this whole dragon something what you'll do?" Ruffnut asked, munching another apple piece.

"I'll go to Stoick and try to negotiate with him changing the social status of my parents. I went to meet a law-speaker, and he said it is an old rule, but the winner of the dragon training has one wish that he or she can request from the Chieftain," Astrid said excitedly.

"Yeah, but didn't you say when we talked about this last time, that it usually involved requests like having a bigger herd of sheep or more farmland for cultivation?" Ruffnut said in a bored tone.

"It doesn't matter!" Astrid snapped '" I need to try something! That's the best thing I could think off. I need to try..."

Ruffnut looked at her for a moment and then punched Astrid's shoulder affectionately.

"I'm sure you will do great and, if you win, then you'll do whatever you think is right for helping your parents. That's the most important thing after all…, I guess," Ruffnut said, grinning.

Astrid rubbed her arm and smiled.

"Sometimes you sound smart Ruff… and thank you."

"Whatever," Ruffnut answered with her usual "I-don't-really-care" voice.

After a few moments, they heard footsteps and soon the figure of a woman emerged from around the corner. The leathers and furs she was wearing didn't look, at the very best, appealing. They had a lot of stains and dirt marks. The woman had long blond hair her grey eyes were bloodshot. Her face had an unfocused look and she was wobbling a little. Even from there, Astrid could smell the stench of alcohol.

"Good morning Miss Thorston," Astrid said as she rose from her seat and lowered her head politely.

"Hello, umm Asfrid?" Miss Thorston said, trying to keep her eyes focused on Astrid, her body wobbling unsteadily, "Would ya lik' t' stay? I can make ya somethin' t' eat in a moment."

Astrid looked at Ruffnut, who only stared steadily back at her.

Astrid said, "Thank you for the offer. However, I promised to visit my father."

Astrid looked apologetically back at her friend. Ruffnut, as always, looked like every answer would be a good one and just grinned.

"C'mon, mom let's take a bath before eating," Ruffnut said cheerfully, and took her mother under the arm, leading her back towards the front door. Before she disappeared behind the corner, she raised her hand in her usual farewell gesture.

Astrid felt bad leaving her friend, but she felt that it was not her business getting involved into the family matters.

The Thorston family wasn't an exemplary Viking family. Ruffnut lost her father when she was young. Her mom was devastated after it and started to drink more. Over-excessive drinking is like stumbling down a hill. Once you start falling, it's very hard to stop.

Without any income, the Thorston household soon started to turn into ruin. Neighbours tried to help, but after seeing that their endeavours were wasted by extensive drinking from the lady of the house, they gave up. With the prospect of living as tribe outcasts, the young twins had to find something to do. At first that "something" was stealing, mostly small things, food, a little of money. The villagers and Stoick pretended they didn't see it. Everybody knew their situation; some suggested that Tuffnut's mom should get married again. Some Vikings went a step further and convinced single men to ask for her hand. They were always rejected.

After one of the twins' "house raids," they were caught and were literally forced to work as a potter apprentices. It turned out it wasn't such a bad idea, both of them showed extraordinary talent, and at the age of ten, they were given their own potter's wheels and started their own workshop.

Pottery was another of the much sought-after export products of Berk. The twins' handiwork was considered as one of the best in Berk, and soon they managed to earn enough money to support their household in the society again. They were earning more than enough to maintain themselves, but, sadly, most of the money was spent on their mom's drinking habit.

The twins had been forced to become independent and the main breadwinners at a too young an age. Without anyone telling them what to do or how to behave, they become quite wild-tempered and reckless.

Without much love present in the house, they couldn't express emotions well, so they were tough and hard-hearted even for a Viking, and the usual greetings between the twins consisted of a few insults and punches.

Astrid used to wonder why she had started liking Ruffnut. Now, Astrid knew that she liked her honesty, straightforwardness and the limitless positive energy she could infect people with. Whenever Astrid wanted to talk, train or just be with somebody who was good company, she sought Ruffnut out. Never, even once, did Ruffnut say that she didn't have time. Always with this scheming grin, thinking up some crazy ideas they could carry out together.

One time she took Astrid for a sled ride down a steep mountain near the village. Astrid, to this day, remembered every tree and rock they had barely managed to avoid. Ruffnut just yelled from joy at missing each close call. Astrid was much more careful after this eventful ride, whenever her friend proposed another one. To this day, she never went on a sled ride without first checking out how hazardous the slope was.

Astrid was now passing near the Town Hall heading up to the mountain side.

At one of the crossroads she saw, of all people, Snotlout.

She hid quickly behind the wall of the nearest house. He wasn't alone. Next to him was Tuffnut and, between them, tightly imprisoned in their grip, was Hiccup, looking like he was not bothered by this at all. He had light brown hair, that used to be redder when he was younger but had darkened with age. It fell down to about ear length and now, with his head low, his hair covered his eyes as well. He wore a bear fur vest and a light green tunic beneath fastened with a small brown belt. Green leather leggings and brown fur boots covered his legs.

However, the most obvious thing about his appearance was that he was not only smaller compared to other teenagers, but also very scrawny. Some villagers called him "Hiccup the Fishbone". In Astrid's opinion, having that appearance and acting like a village clown was like waving above his head a large sign that said ,"Please hit me, and do it hard!".

Tuffnut looked very much like his sister. He had the same long blond hair, with the exception that his hung loose, unbraided, from beneath a silver helmet, and he had brown eyes.

But he did have the same devious grin on his face.

Astrid heard Hiccup's bored voice.

"Ok, guys, so what will it be today? Some pleasant beating? Or some refreshing plunge in a barrel of stinking water?"

Snotlout stopped. His face brightened.

"You know, I didn't think of that before," Snotlout said looking at Tuffnut.

"What a surprise," Hiccup added in a whisper that Astrid barely heard.

The other teens were too occupied with themselves to hear it.

"Same here, I think we should respect our 'guest's' wishes," Tuffnut grinned even more.

They dragged Hiccup to the nearby tanner's shop and Tuffnut opened the cover of one of the foul smelling barrels outside the shop.

"That looks… inviting," Hiccup said dryly, staring casually at the dark mass of something foul and fermenting that seemed to have gotten a little bit of water thrown into it just by accident.

Snotlout and Tuffnut turned Hiccup upside down and threw him head first into the barrel, laughing like idiots.

They soon started walking away from the barrel from which Hiccup's legs were kicking furiously. Shortly after, Hiccup managed to pull himself out of the barrel, his whole upper body covered in slime.

He tried to brush as much off from him as possible, using his hands.

After few moments, he pointed a finger at his executioners and started to talk in a so-very-dramatic voice.

"Mark my words! Someday I'll unleash my Viking wrath upon you! There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth! The earth shall be set ablaze and you will scramble in fear, crawling and begging for..."

He noticed now that his 'friends', who were so kind to introduce him to every germ known to mankind were now running towards him with not so welcoming expressions on their faces. Apparently, they knew words like _fear, scramble_ and _beg,_ and they didn't like the connection they made to the most wimpy teen in the village.

"Forgiveness…?" Hiccup finished in a questioning tone.

Hiccup started running away. It seemed a quite healthy decision at the moment.

Soon the trio disappeared into one of the valleys.

Astrid swung her head in disdain. She didn't hate Hiccup; she just didn't care about him. He was always causing problems, and instead of just sitting still on almost every dragon raid, he was trying to kill a dragon, failing miserably every time.

The last time, he got chased around by a Terrible Terror that burned his invention. This time, it was some sort of smoke that was supposed to make a dragon die suffocating. It might've worked if a dragon could die from sneezing too much. The Terror that was treated with it was still for a moment, and Hiccup was looking at it expecting it to die at any moment. The Terror just took a breath and sneezed loudly, burning Hiccup's contraption on the spot. Hiccup's smoky powder, it turned out, burned in a beautiful red flame that soon started a fire on a nearest building. Hiccup just ran away, screaming.

Astrid stood now near her father's workshop placed near the mountain side. It was easier to get resources necessary for stonemasonry when you were closer to the mines.

She jumped over the small runnel running near the workshop. She noticed her father working with a hammer and chisel on a grey block of lime stone. He was wearing a leather buff coloured vest, brown leather gloves, light brown trousers and grey leather boots. On his waist he had a belt with many chisels of various shapes and sizes hanging from it. He was covered with dust, but less than usual, thanks to the earlier rain.

He got up and started massaging his lower back swearing loudly.

Then he saw Astrid and changed his posture like he was just stretching.

"Good mornin' ! It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?" Astrid's father boomed with a cheerful voice

Astrid approached him from the side and slapped his lower back saying, "Excellent day to overwork as usual, I see"

Her father's face grimaced with pain but he quickly put on a smile.

"I don't know what yer talkin' about," he said while looking at the sky, "I'm just doin' my job, ya know, a few rock here, a few rocks there…"

Astrid's eyes narrowed. Her father moved a step back. It looked too much like the glare of her mother.

The teen started speaking between her teeth, trying not to burst out with anger.

"So tell me, father, why all these stones here look as though lifting them would cause a few very strong men to break their backs. I think we made this clear with mom… "

"But…," Astrid's father begun but was overpowered by Astrid's voice as she started to speak faster and louder with every second.

"We even asked for medicine from the healers. You _know_ very well what they said, no lifting more than 3 stones of weight at a time! And I notice that you are happily lifting some granite…"

"Limestone ...," her father corrected

"Whatever! You shouldn't be working here, you are not so young anymore, you know?" Astrid finished looking pleadingly at her father. He folded his arms and spluttered quietly.

"I don't need to b' treated in any different way from the other Vikings. I still have a lot of strength in these old bones"-

He flexed his muscular arm, showing his biceps.

"I could work with you here and..." Astrid said.

"No!" her father barked sharply.

Astrid moved slightly, startled at the power of his voice.

Her father noticed and started talking in a softer tone " I don't want my daughter working here; it is just not a job for you, Astrid."

"Because I'm a girl? " Astrid asked in an irritated voice, flicking her head and putting her hand on her hip.

"That's one of th' reasons. I agree that you ar' strong, but you ar' not built for this type of work, and I won't let my daughter waste her health away here at this backbreaking labor,'" her father said, pointing at the stone scattered around.

"But I'm training! I'm strong already!" Astrid defended, taking a step forward.

"This is not a bargain, I won't change my mind, my child will not be a stonecutter!" Astrid's father said, crossing his arms on his massive chest.

Astrid's fists clenched and she said, "So you will just stay here, letting your health waste away? Why won't you let me help you?"

Her father stood for a moment in silence and then answered, boring into Astrid's eyes "We ar' what we ar', Astrid. Everybody has his or her own path t' follow. My father was a stonemason, and I am too. I can't imagine my life without it; I need to feed my family as well."

"I can be useful here I'm sure I can…," Astrid begun in a pleading tone and she was never pleading.

"When you will stop being a child? I want ya t' have a better future. Ya're too smart t' b' a stonecutter! If ya can't understand this now, ya never will!" Astrid's father yelled in frustration, not moved by his daughter's concern.

Astrid bit her lip, trying to think about what to say. She couldn't think of anything. Her father's facial features softened upon realizing his outburst, and he lifted a hand like he wanted to say something.

Astrid turned and started to run away towards the forest. Without even thinking where she was running to, she found herself on her training grounds. She started to train just to kill her thoughts.

She wanted to do a good thing, both for herself and her parents, she was sure about that. So why was she still not understood by her family? She always tried to be perfect for them, and it was good... wasn't it?

If somebody had been there, he would have seen a girl twisting and moving gracefully in her training routine. However, he also would have seen that her movements, though rough and aggressive, showed hesitation. And that this girl, even with a tough expression on her face, had tears rolling down her face.

If somebody walked there he would see that, but nobody ever walked there.

* * *

It was late evening when Astrid came back to the house. Without any word, she went up to her room and lay on her bed. Looking at the ceiling, she thought about millions of things swirling in her head. She didn't even notice falling asleep.

Suddenly a low and then loud sound cut through the air. Astrid's eyes snapped open, and she sat on her bed, looking at the window and darkness outside.

It was a sound coming from one of the guard towers.

The dragon raid had begun.


	5. Watch Your Hopes Fall

Rejected one-shot's cemetery (aka Deleted Scenes from "The Truth is a Shard of Ice").

"A Fish to Chew".

Read by the very famous celebrity with a deep voice.

(AN) Absolutely-makes-no-sense Notes: I wanted to keep this masterpiece in the story, but I decided to change it into a one shot. My eyes tear up to think that I needed to let my baby go into this big, cold and unforgiving world. I had to leave this scene out because it was a matter of keeping things flowing better in the first part of the story. So now it is a prompt. Gosh! Th4nks 2 I-am-too-lazy-to-write-a-story-with-a-plot for suggesting I turn this into a one-shot! This deleted scene now one-shot) is about Toothless smiling to a dead fish. Enjoy? Read and Review!

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell. I own the OC in this chapter... a dead fish! So cute!

Toothless saw a dead fish in front of him. He smiled and ate it. The end.

Read and Review pwease! Have you noticed that spin off how I made toothless eat it as well?:D Tee-hee! Reviewwwww! Have I told you to review?

( *insert your own face palming sound here*)

* * *

AN: Thank you for all the reviews. I really appreciate them.

This is not one of those, "It is my first fan fiction please be kind with me", or even better, "No negative comments," or my personal favourite, "Don't like, don't read!". I can handle critique! Constructive criticism is the one I appreciate the most, since it lets me see my mistakes and try to correct them. So don't be afraid to leave me a few lines, regardless of good or bad. Today enjoy the ride through the Shade's mind.

Dragon's can know the current time by looking at the star movement. They also can measure short periods of time using their own heart beat.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.

* * *

Bonecrack was sitting in his guard tower, looking forward without any interest. Luckily, the usually present gusts of freezing wind from the ocean were gone, and the air smelled clean and refreshing. He took a gulp of slightly watered mead to keep himself warm and covered himself in a woollen blanket.

The guard tower simply consisted of a large stone pillar shooting out from the water. The upper part of it was drilled and emptied to create a small chamber. The column was connected to the land by the use of hanging rope bridges that currently creaked quietly on a breeze. There were four guard posts in total: northern, north-western, north-eastern and eastern. They created a circle around the water path leading to Berk's docks. A small pit in a centre in which a fire was blazing was built inside every tower

Bonecrack was sitting in the north-western tower. Three holes on each side of it were used for observation.

The guard took another sip of his beverage and scratched himself under the nose. While looking at the stars in front of him, he saw a darkness slide across the stars for a second. He blinked and looked at them again. They were shining as every star normally would. He thought it must've been just his imagination and took another mouthful of his favourite tipple, completely unaware that, just above him, he had a guest who was making himself comfortable.

The dragon curled on the top of the stone tower and looked in the direction of the village. It seemed like the darkness had suddenly been equipped with a pair of green-toxic eyes. The dragon started scratching his neck and yawned widely, his white fangs glistening in the dark.

Shade was bored.

He didn't like being bored; when you are bored you tend to think too much. He knew that tonight his brethren would start their usual fighting with humans again. The air had cleared after the rain and gave the good visibility required for raiding. Perfect weather and a….

_Perfect night to die, _Shade thought, _I do wonder how many will die tonight. Usually the balance is twenty to one for humans. Quite a good score considering how small and weak they are_.

A gentle breeze started blowing and waves started to break louder on the pillar's surface, bringing back memories.

_How long have I been here already?... It must have been almost half a cycle since I've fulfilled my revenge._

A few low sounds resonated in his throat, a draconic laughter: _That's really rich! 'Fulfilling my revenge', who am I kidding here? Sometimes I'm forgetting why even I'm even "here" in the first place. Everyday is the same: wake up, hunt, eat, sleep, hunt, sleep some more. I'm just flying around here without any purpose, aren't I?_

The dragon laughed again.

_Since when did I start asking myself all these stupid questions a normal dragon wouldn't even consider? Why? What? How? Oh, I especially enjoy the first one. _Why_ do I have to be here? Or _why_ did_ _everything turn out in this way? And this is my absolute favourite… Why has everybody I wanted to protect either died or perished from my life?, _He placed his head on his front paws, letting out a very nostalgic sigh. He didn't like when he felt like that, but he had learned that the best way to deal with it was let it pass on its own.

_I have been thinking about these questions for so long that I finally stopped seeking answers to them. They just were with me: they were present when I was flying, I was drinking them with every gulp of the water, eating them with every bite of my prey. Even this weird sensation, like something hurts my heart, stopped to sting so much over time. But it is still there. I still do not understand what this feeling is and why it's there._

Shade closed his eyes and concentrated on his heart, listening to the slow, rhythmic thumps it was making. It felt like something was holding his heart in a cold grasp. With every pulse, he felt like the blood that flowed out of it was poisoned. It made the area around it prickle, moving through the body, making it shiver, filling his mind with a storm of thoughts and visions of the past…

There was a distant dripping from the ceiling of the cave and in front of him there was a forest rustling quietly in the distance.

Drip.

A drop fell near his nose; it was red and reecked of metal.

Drip.

Another fell in front of him. It was blood.

Drip.

This one splattered on his front paw and slid down, smearing his dark skin with redness. He focused his sight in front of him.

There was a forest moving in front of him, a forest made of dead dragon's ribs. The rustling, in reality, was a sound of the bones cracking. The dragon's chests were opened in a macabre display, white bones ascending up, higher and higher, filling up his vision.

Drip.

The droplet fell between his eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't roar in fear; some invisible force was keeping him in place. He looked at these bones and tried to move, to do anything but escape from here.

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood started marking his body, making him whimper in terror and tremble. He didn't want to look up. He knew what he would see there.

An invisible force made his head move up slowly. He couldn't blink. He had to watch.

_Don't do it... please! Don't show it to me! I don't want to see it, don't want to, don't, don't…_, he kept repeating it like a mantra in his head.

Drip, drip, dripdrip, dripdripdripdrip

Now it became a rain of blood falling on, his muzzle, eyes and neck. The invisible power was still moving his head up. He was about to see what was above him. The mad laughter filled his head.

Shade exhaled loudly, snapping his eyes open. He was back again at the top of the stone pillar. His heart was beating fast and loud, every beat sending a new wave of pain. He calmed his breathing and heart. Visions and thoughts, still echoing in his mind slowly disappeared, and pain just became a distant sensation at the back of his mind. He concentrated even more, making his heartbeat and breathing so slow and quiet it couldn't be heard, even by him. He had had a lot of time to master this skill, and he was very fond of it. Any dragon would tell that he was using this skill to kill, but he had actually learned it in the first place not for killing, but to keep this painful feeling from controlling him.

But nobody knew that; he never told anyone, he never had anyone to tell this to in the first place.

After his sister died, his language became claws and fangs. He almost never spoke; he didn't want or had to. His words were spoken, instead by the sounds of breaking bones. His questions echoed in his enemies' whimpers of pain. He roared his anger in the quiet last breaths of his opponents. While killing, he didn't have to think, didn't have to ask himself anything. There was only a dance between him and death. So beautiful and addicting, being always one step ahead of death's cold grasp.

In the beginning, he had enjoyed the killing. He had found out that he _could_ kill, and that he was very talented in that area. Disappearing from sight became his second nature. Avoiding blows and fire became something joyous.

He was happy slaughtering the dragons that used to belittle him when he was young and couldn't defend himself, those who had betrayed him and his family. He felt so much better- no pain, no thoughts, no need to listen to the pain sipping from his heart.

He was called the Monster, the Flying Death, the Shade. He had many more names, but he liked the last one because it is what he was. A shade, a shadow of his former self, a piece of flesh that moved without any aim or purpose.

He felt happy, he _was_ happy…. he kept repeating himself about this happiness after every life he took. He _had_ to be happy, he was punishing, avenging, doing the right thing.

Then the reality struck him suddenly one day.

What really was the right thing for him in the first place?

His older sister had taught him about something called _morals_ and _feelings_. He now felt different since he lost her, he _was_ different… he realised that he couldn't be like the other dragons, he couldn't be happy with the mindless killing.

He didn't understand this concept of morality or feelings, but somehow by being near his sister he changed. How he saw the world, experienced it, how he viewed other dragons- transformed. And humans…

His sister spoke of humans only once, the day before she died. She had spoken in a whisper, telling both him and his little brother the Story about them. Not one of the scary ones that most of the dragons knew, but the one where dragons and humans could live together. He never understood this, - how was it possible? It seemed to be just a story, something fictional. But it had lit up his already big curiosity.

While travelling around the world on his quest for vengeance, he had seen many civilizations, and what he saw surprised him. Humans turned out to be more vicious than most dragons, killing themselves, raiding, burning whole settlements to the ground. One time he watched the whole horizon filled with fires coming from burned villages and cities, bodies on the piles as large as small trees, heads stuck on poles and staved in the ground. Humans making their victory dances on the tombs of their slaughtered enemies... just to eventually die themselves and be replaced by others in this mindless dance of death.

Where were those humans his older sister spoke about? Maybe there were two different species? Or maybe they were hiding somewhere? He didn't mind the war carnage; he was just… disappointed.

Yet, he still sought humans out, listening to their myriad of tongues or watching their lives from where he was hidden in the darkness. They seemed… interesting in their own way.

His sister also said to try not to kill humans. Quite an unusual request but again, it just felt… right. He was always justifying this, that he was only doing this out of boredom. Just another way to entertain himself, just another way to forget.

When he started living as the Shade, his life started to be like a dream. Time ran so fast, that before he knew it, he was chasing after the last one of his intended dragon targets. He had killed all of those responsible, their families, and those that tried to stop him.

And, after returning to this place where it all begun, half a cycle ago, he felt more "not right" than ever.

His heart stung again when he thought that the one that had started this entire nightmare was still breathing.

He looked at the direction where he knew the Dragon Lair was, and felt his mind start to fill with anger.

Between many emotions he couldn't identify, name or understand he was very familiar with a few in particular.

Anger, hatred and fear.

He lived with anger as his motivation and hatred was only fuelling this feeling. But since he had come back here, the feeling of fear was growing stronger and stronger. He wasn't afraid of dragons or humans.

He was afraid of failing. Failing this life-long quest. This crazy, for a dragon, mission to avenge his family.

He was so close to fulfilling it, ending it, yet he felt like he was just moving in circles without even placing a step forward.

IT was still alive, and nobody else was more responsible for the deaths of his kin. Shade would give up his life for the possibility of ending that creature's life, tearing its throat, watching it die.

But he knew that would not happen. Every time he tried to fly to the Nest, fear was taking control of him. No matter how many times he woke up with a strong resolve in his heart, it was torn apart by the image of him looking at his kind dying on that day, the laughter filling not only his ears but his mind as well. He knew it, he was terrified, and he couldn't find a way to fight with IT.

He couldn't win. His fear was stronger than his determination, larger than his courage, brighter than his fire.

Even if trying to fight IT was suicidal, he wanted to do this. Maybe at the back of his mind he just wanted this to end already.

He hated only one more thing more than this thing.

He hated himself.

His final aim was still out of his claws and the voice that belonged to IT rang in his head.

"_And always, you will be my cute little dragon. You will never be able to kill me. You are just pathetic, just living here, for what? You just keep yourself alive thinking that maybe someday a "miracle" will happen and cure you from this fear you bear? Wouldn't disappearing be better a solution for you, than continuing this pitiful existence_?"

_Shut up_!, he screamed in his head.

That thing had not haunted his mind for many season changes now, and yet his sadness grew even bigger because he knew that it was providing these voice thoughts to himself. He was so used to being insulted and belittled by IT, that he was catching himself sometimes having the same voice speaking inside his head, but it was _he_ who was doing that. It was like having two voices constantly fighting with each other. Sometimes he felt tired of living, an emotion that was so exotic and incomprehensible for other dragons that even, if explained, it would still be seen by others of his kind as the blabbering of a dragon gone mad.

He often thought himself that he was mad. An excellent explanation for the condition he was in. A dragon with a lot of self-doubt , some _emotions _and_ morality_ with a heart that hurt and a mind full of questions.

_I'm so crazy they should start scaring hatchlings with stories about me. 'Younglings remember to eat a lot of rocks and hit your head against the cave wall often, or you will end up like that crackbrained dragon_!', Shade thought and after a few moments added, _Ah wait, I forgot... they are already doing this_.

Shade looked at the stars and how they had been moving across the sky this night. He estimated that he had around one thousand heartbeats until the sunrise.

He never attacked during the day; it was quite a good tactic considering that his whole body was black. Shade didn't like to attack without any cover or preparations first. Countless fights had taught him that if you are just rushing towards your enemy without having any plan first, you are as good as dead. Or you are so good that you don't need a plan. Or lucky. He knew that he was strong, but he still was a cautious dragon.

Kill the enemy before he notices you. Impair his senses, expose his weakness, attack when he is weakened and can't defend himself. Kill your enemy so fast he won't even know that he is dying.

_Darkness is your bastion, speed is your weapon and fire is your protection. _

This is what he was taught when he was young. He did not remember many of those lessons, but this one he remembered well. It described exactly how his kind was fighting.

Some dragons ascribed supernatural powers to him, that he was some kind of Wind Spirit. That Wind Spirit stuff was just the talk of frightened cubs who had no idea about how to fight.

Most dragons just relied on their instincts while in battle. One big thing that Shade was happy about and that made him "different" from the others, was that he kept on thinking clearly during fights.

He was, honestly, more intelligent than other dragons. Still, he sometimes wished that it would be better if he were more stupid and didn't have these "feelings" all the time. Using his intelligence and a very good memory, he could plan attacks and strike with deadly precision. He could outsmart every enemy he wanted, and none was able to struggle against it. Fighting was never about having extraordinary abilities or powers. It was a matter of using as many factors as you could to aid you in battle. Environment, weather, your physical and psychological advantages, knowledge about the enemy and many more. If somebody couldn't see you, it meant that you were well hidden. If you were able to strike first it indicated that you were faster. There never was anything complicated in it.

Shade saw small dots on the horizon getting nearer. Dragons had an excellent night vision, so he didn't have to try hard to see the incoming flock of dragons. He covered his ears with his front paws, knowing what was going happen in a moment.

The human beneath him, as predicted, started to run to the other side of the tower and began to blow into one of the strange tubes that emanated a low, and a very loud sound.

Shade grimaced; he heard it many times before but still couldn't get used to the volume of it. The human was letting others know about the incoming danger. Soon the human figure ran out from the pillar and started heading towards the land using one of the rope bridges.

Shade liked to observe humans getting ready for battle. They seemed so much better organized than the dragons that were about to attack them.

He looked at the approaching dragons for a second. The usual attacking group; that meant a complete mix of totally different kinds flying without any formation or uniform speed.

Shade snorted with contempt. As usual there they were flying towards the human settlements without any plan at all.

He couldn't blame them though. Most of them were much younger than he was, and he was only almost four and half cycles old. Truth be told, most of them were just younglings. Come to think of it, there were not really any truly old dragons left in the Nest. They had been killed by IT all those cycles ago. A lot of the youngsters were born under the rules of IT and didn't know the old teaching. Nobody had taught them about things like tactics or skills. All that draconic society was driven and powered by one thing only: unstoppable, mind-binding and sense clouding fear. Fear that you might end up as a meal, that you might just become another sadistic game for that behemoth. These dragons had lowered themselves to instinct- herd animals without any pride or intelligence left.

This whole situation with raiding human settlements did not make any sense. Even for such an extensive population of dragons with a vicious murderer to feed, there was enough food in the ocean. And that did not count the islands that had a lot of game for food. Raiding the humans was one of the old amusements for IT, watching the two species kill each other.

A full-scale attack from the dragons would seemingly destroy the humans but it always appeared that the dragons would only get their prey after heavy casualties.

Impressive what fear could do to you. Shade was a living example of it, still trapped by this feeling, so basic and primal and yet so powerful. It made him understand that even intelligence and willpower have their own limitations and how little they mean against basic instincts.

Shade almost lost himself in his thoughts again, but he cleared his mind. It was time to observe tonight's fight.

He flew to the pillar closest to the village so he could have a better view.

He watched as a few of the _Small Squashers_ (they were so small IT liked to crush them using its monstrous feet) landed near some chickens and started killing them, eating hungrily like they hadn't been eating for days now. It was probably true.

Shade just observed as a few of the humans hid themselves behind one of the walls, then, on a signal, rushed forward and separated into two groups surrounding the little dragons. A few of the dragons noticed it and fled in time, but most were too busy with satisfying their appetite.

Shade looked on calmly as the humans started to raise their weapons and shoot them with their dead sticks. After that humans used other weapons to finish the survivors off. Only a few escaped; the rest, transformed into a bloody mash, weren't so lucky.

Shade was impressed with humans. The Little Squashers didn't even think for a second that this livestock might've been left on purpose as a trap. If those Squashers had been adults with some experience, the humans would not have been able to kill even one of them.

Shade had fought with many of those smaller dragons and, if he could define them in a few words, they would be "fast, agile and extremely irritating". The speed with which they moved on the ground turned them into a blur. Hitting one of them was a really hard business. Their reflexes, even better than Shade's, gave them an ability to dodge almost every attack.

However, their most irritating aspect was the very thing that might have been seen as their weakness: their small size. The usual fighting tactic of the Squasher was to use its speed and swiftness to get on you and then start biting and clawing an area where you couldn't reach for it. One time a Squasher managed to get onto Shade and bite the patch of skin on his back between his wings. The Squasher didn't anticipate that a bigger dragon could simply roll in the air in one quick motion and crash on his back, making the smaller dragon enjoy the last ride of its life before its neck snapped upon hitting the ground. Still, it had left a few nasty scars, and while the wound was healing, Shade couldn't even scratch it. It was the classic "revenge from the grave".

The Squashers' fire wasn't so dangerous, and they needed considerable time to charge it. While doing so, they were vulnerable, and one of the better tactics to defeat them involved shooting a fireball into their opened muzzle, also their abilities could only fully be used on the ground. In the air they were easy to shoot down.

The humans didn't even stop for a second. Some dispersed between the houses, collecting any livestock they could still save and running towards the mountain. Others ran to a small hut where they placed some of their weapons on the window ledge and waited. Suddenly one of them fell backwards on the ground, hit in the face by a net-like something.

Shade turned his attention to a _ColourFool_ _Tapestry_ (IT liked to throw some of them at the wall; their splattering bodies created very colourful patterns). The humans used the same kind of trap as for the Squashers, this time using sheep. The Tapestries just started drooling, not noticing the humans with a net above them. As interesting as those bipedal beings were, they weren't really original, not like they needed to be. The net fell, trapping a few of the dragons beneath it.

Then the humans started the killing, and they were very efficient with that. Shade noticed also that one of the ColourFools was standing to the side. Luckily for the ColourFool, its hiding place in the darkness wasn't revealed by ubiquitous fire. He whipped his tail, to Shade's surprise, hit one of the humans with its projectile. The power of the blow lifted the human off the ground and pinned the man to the building behind him.

"One," Shade counted.

The Tapestry didn't live long after that. A giant axe flew towards him and made him headless in less than a heartbeat after he shot his quill.

Shade knew that what that youngling had just demonstrated was nothing compared to what an adult and truly experienced Tapestry could do.

One time Shade had been fighting with a ColourFool in a forest. Shade was younger then, and he didn't know what to expect. He had hid behind a tree thinking it might give him enough protection against the ColourFool's projectiles. It didn't. The shot quills penetrated the trunk of the tree like it was air. Shade was lucky that his head wasn't nailed by the quill. It missed him, barely injuring his neck and damaged some trees further down from Shade's position, making the first fall down and tearing large holes in a few others. The Tapestry had continued firing his quills, making the trees in front of him fall and shatter from the force, quickly turning the lovely forest landscape into a messy field of debris. Shade answered with rapidly shot plasma bolts from his throat.

The Tapestry was so quick on its feet that it dodged all of Shade's attacks, returning the pleasantries with its own bright yellow fire. It literally melted everything in its path and what the flames caught on (wood or rocks), it was just increasing in intensity with every passing moment. Shade had won by sheer luck. He fired his bolt on the ground in front of his enemy and one of the rocks hit the ColourFool's eye, distracting it and giving Shade a split heartbeat window to strike. It was enough.

Shade looked now at the one of the buildings exploding in a review of fireworks. The one responsible for it was a _Double Headbite_. IT liked to occasionally eat them. The name told you everything you wanted to know about IT's method of killing this dragon type. Considering the Headbite, its attack pattern was quite interesting. One of the heads breathed a highly flammable and explosive gas; the other generated a spark to light it up, creating a powerful explosion.

Another house blew up, sending its flaming debris around the nearby buildings. The Double Headbite flew away, looking for another target. A few of the humans followed and tried to stop it as it started to fill up another structure with gas. One of them fired a bow but missed; it was his last mistake. The Headbite used this opportunity to ignite the gas. Even though the destructive power wasn't as great as normal, it transformed half of the house into a memory. The blast of the explosion and wreckage blew the humans away, killing them instantly.

Shade counted, "Two, Three, Four, Five, Six… no… wait… must count two legs and two hands as one, so it should actually be five… I always had a problem with their body parts!"

Shade counted the dead bodies by adding the numbers of hands and legs he could see. It was sometimes difficult to say how many for sure.

The Headbite was now flying above the central part of the village when a well-thrown spear went through him. The dragon spiralled down and crashed on one of the roofs, breaking it.

"Nice!", Shade commented excitedly.

He looked down to see who had thrown it. He saw a man he knew very well from his past observations. He was, without any doubt, the leader. Shade liked to watch him fight. He was an extremely good warrior, for a human of course, but still better than any dragon that was present in the village (Except for Shade, of course).

Like the other dragons killed so far, this Headbite was just a youngling. Some might think that its ability to create explosions was its best attack, but thist was not true. Humans probably didn't know that since the only ones they encountered were not adult Headbites. Its real attack wasn't shot or thrown. A Headbite's whole body was a weapon, since every part of it was extremely poisonous, and the older it was, the stronger the poison was. An old one didn't even have to lift a paw to kill you. One drop of its venom or blood was enough to make you squirm in agony before dying. That is, if you lived long enough to be able to squirm first. If it bit or clawed you, you would die from the poison. If you bit it or clawed it, you would _still_ die from the poison. If you shot fire at it, you wouldn't do much damage since it could survive its own blasts at a point blank range. If you inhaled its gas for a longer period of time, you would first fall asleep and then you would die. Some dragons believed that it could make you blind, lose all your scales and make you unable to have offspring. The last one was especially terrifying.

There were a few methods of killing a Headbite, but each required a lot of skill, ability and a bit of luck. One of them was quite simple for a dragon to do. You would wait until it became bored with trying to hit you with its claws or spiked tail, as this could inject poison as well. The main point was to avoid the attacks as long as possible without letting it even scratch you. Most of the times, the Headbite would start to breathe gas around it to blast it when it was large enough to change you into small pieces of smoking flesh.

Now the hard part would begin. Nobody said you needed to wait for it to finish breathing gas and ignite its spark. You could always lend a helping paw. If you used your own fire to ignite the gas cloud the Headbite was breathing out, you could make the gas explode along with the head that breathed it out. Dragons might be fireproof outside, but inside, it was a totally different matter.

The youngling Headbite that had just been killed wasn't old enough to even have a poisonous breath. Shade could see that from the absence of the deep green stripes under its wings and neck. These stripes were like a warning flag for all the other dragons, telling a very clear and short message: "I'm poisonous and, if you touch me you'll soon find yourself wishing to be instead gnawed to death by a Little Squasher with just one fang in its mouth, starting from your tail and working up to your head, being paralyzed and handicapped all the while."

Another type of dragon drew Shade's attention. It was shooting one of its fireballs at the incoming humans. Its fire was quite interesting. It wasn't created from the mixture of gases, but it was generated from molten rock and the liquid substance that lit itself when it got in the contact with the air. Rock in its liquid form had so high a temperature that it could pass through almost anything. Its trajectory was truly unpredictable, and it could damage quite a large area around it. The one Shade was observing now was doing surprisingly well. It shot a few more blasts, horribly missing most of the time, but still it managed to hit some humans with it. Most of them managed to get back on their feet unsteadily, but a few weren't so lucky. Again, an adult and experienced dragon would have wiped out all these humans with one blast.

"Seven, Eight…. Nine, good shot there," Shade said.

Shade started lashing his tail in excitement. It was getting interesting. Tonight, the Dragons even if losing horribly as usual, had managed to kill more humans than most of the time.

"Maybe I won't have to help them tonight?" Shade said in his very healthy habit of talking to himself.

These lava breathers were called the _Crunch Munch_ because they were the munch that crunched when IT chewed one. A very original name, like all the others IT gave. Those dragons were the most armoured and toughest of all the dragons Shade knew, and he knew quite a few species, not only the kinds that were seen in the Nest. Fighting with a CrunchMunch was quite difficult, as with every other more experienced dragon. They had this infuriating ability to hover in the air, and they could change their position lighting fast. It made them almost impossible to hit with your fire. They weren't fast in the terms of speed but were very quick with their movements. That's why, when they attacked, it was always from the air. Their blasts could change you into a very riddled personality quite efficiently. For this reason, standing still was never a good idea while fighting them. Most of their vulnerable points were reinforced by their scales, as tough as a rock, making it hard to kill them by clawing or biting. Hard- but not impossible. As agile as their movements were in the air, their bodies were quite rigid. All you had to do was to catch one in the air. Or just manage to score a few hits on its body, right between its reinforced scales, severing one of the arteries. After that, you just hid and waited until it bled to death.

Shade heard a flapping of wings behind him. He didn't even turn his head; he knew this sound. It was one of the _Hitesthi Eska_ as it was called in an Old Tongue. The _Lover of the Flame_. They could set themselves in flames, using this for defence and attack. Shade personally called them, 'the Useless, Pathetic Traitors,' and it showed his feelings towards their kind. They didn't have an insulting name like the other dragons. After most of the mature ones were killed, this kind was the only one that surrendered willingly to IT. Shade didn't care whether it had been a hard choice the younglings were forced to accept or if they had been influenced easier by the binding powers of IT's mind. He despised them; they had thrown away all dignity and pride and allowed themselves to be transformed into loyal puppies, obeying even the most twisted order. They were used by IT as a loyal guard, keeping the "order", mostly by abusing the little power they had.

_Pathetic little worms, trying to struggle a little before they die, deluded that they could buy some time so they can shit and copulate for a little longer. They will all end in IT's stomach, fúin lowlifes,_ Shade though, forcing himself not to growl at the incoming dragon.

He still remembered very well how these brutes treated other dragons, including him, his little brother and older sister. The Eska even sold themselves out just to survive.

Of course, there were some exceptions and one remembrance was still vivid in Shade's memory. The old leader of the _Helegr Hjamlstar Kathet_, the Red Headed Clan, was one of the First Speakers. Shade had admired him as a youngling; he had been one of his _Lifdagarkennarar_, a Life Teacher. He was wise, strong and very, very proud. He refused to surrender without a fight. Most of the Eska followed him and they all met their end, killed in a fight they knew they'd lose from the start. After that, the rest of the clans succumbed to ITS power.

The Eska landed carefully at the edge of the pillar that Shade was crouching on. Now, as the wind brought its smell into Shade's nostrils he could tell a lot more about it, no, him. The youngling behind him was quite old for a Nest dragon . And he smelled quite familiar.

Shade turned his head to take a closer look. This dragon was almost a cycle old, judging from his wingspan and the colour of his scales (they were still more colorful than the one of an adult). Now Shade knew why he knew this smell from somewhere. The Eska in front of him was one of the _Red Headed Clan_. Shade's pupils dilated from the surprise. He thought they all died and there was no one that could keep the clan line. The youth didn't have the two small red stripes above his eyes, so characteristic for the clan he descended from. His smell told that he had a mixed ancestry with some clans Shade didn't even know. However, it was still there, before him stood a living remnant of the Red Headed Clan.

The young dragon was also keeping a fish in his muzzle. The youngling raised himself, switching his centre of balance to his hindquarters. Shade reacted immediately, getting on all fours, lowering his head and starting to snarl.

The youth started to smell of fear and tremble a little, but he still had courage sparkling in his eyes. He elevated his left hind leg very slowly and then placed one of his claws on the pillar's stone surface and started drawing something on it, lowering his head to look if his paw was moving correctly.

Shade stopped growling and, with every movement of other dragon's claw, his eyes were getting bigger and bigger from the shock.

The Eska finished and lifted his head hastily and looked at Shade expectantly, still trembling slightly.

_That's… impossible_..., Shade thought looking at the small drawing.

Yet, he had to admit it. Before him, drawn in the stone, clumsily but still legible, was a rune of the _Frondr_, it meant the_ Peace_. Written language was almost never used by dragons anymore, and what the youngling represented here was a very old form of greeting.

Shade got his composure back and looked at the youngling, returning the gaze. Without even looking at what he was doing, he raised his left front paw and started to draw quickly. His own rune looked different; it meant the _Andari_, _the Spirit_.

Shade then crouched with wings flat on his body and bent his tail on the right side of him so it could be seen and bowed his head low, looking at the ground. The other dragon didn't return the gesture; he probably didn't know the whole ritual.

Shade didn't care, it had been a very long time since he had been greeted like that by another dragon, and he wanted to do it properly. The peace rune symbolized the intentions of the one that was the "incomer". The _Andari_ rune meant the mind condition of the one who has been invited to interact. By drawing the peace rune as your first response, you were waiting for an answer. If the other dragon did not start drawing anything in return, you were not allowed to start talking; it was considered as an insult to do so.

The runes together created the peace of the spirit, symbolizing that the talk would be conducted in a peaceful atmosphere, focusing on what the other dragon had to say and that neither would be distracted with other thoughts. By crouching, as Shade did, he showed that he wouldn't use his strength and would talk with humility, not placing himself above the interlocutor.

Folding your wings and bending your tail symbolized that you wouldn't use your wings to fly away from the discussion. For some dragons, like the Tapestry, it also illustrated that they would not use their tail as a weapon.

Bending your head and not looking into the other dragon's eyes for a split heartbeat meant that you accepted the intentions, that you would not use fire and would not make a challenge in any way, but also that you believed in what you were about to say.

On the other paw, if you chose instead to look into the other dragon's eyes for a longer time, it would be read as an invitation for battle.

The dragon in front of Shade didn't know what to do. He looked even more terrified than before.

The Eska threw the fish in front of him and moved it slightly towards Shade with his muzzle, shaking horribly. Then he looked for a few heartbeats more into Shade's eyes and took off quickly, heading to the village.

Again the darker dragon was stunned with this action. Giving food to another dragon was a very high sign of commitment. It was common among dragon mates, but with total strangers it was different. Giving some of your food was like sharing part of your life. It was a representation of peace and deep respect to one another. Dragons liked to put many symbols into their actions, quite logical for a race that communicated a lot by the use of body language.

Shade couldn't help but to feel… _touched_ by the youngling's action. He had taken a great risk getting close to the older dragon. Not because Shade would kill him- Shade didn't want to hurt him unless the Eska threatened him, but that seemed unlikely. It was because Shade was one of the _Nálgesknin_, _the Unapproachable_. Any contact with him, physical or not, was punished by death. One more of the "playful" things that IT had done to keep him separated from his old society. Not like Shade really needed to have any contact with all those merry memories, but some dragons that had tried to talk to him in the past had now "disappeared" and there was no trace of them left.

Other dragons learned fast that pretending that "Shade doesn't exist" was the best strategy to live a little longer, and still there were many that sold any dragon who would even try to look into Shade's direction. This Eska risked his very own hide to try to talk to him; "talk" wasn't the proper term, more like "to interact".

Shade looked at the dead fish in front of him. The tip end of his mouth lifted a little like trying to create a smile, but only for a heartbeat, though. Shade felt happy that somebody had even thought of sharing his meal with him, yet he knew the sad reality behind this act. The Eska just wanted to survive, that's all there was to it- nothing less, nothing more. Knowing that Shade could provide very serious fire support and scare humans away, the Eska wanted to increase his own chances of continued existence.

There was nothing emotional in it, nothing deep, no symbol, just a played out spectacle, a mimicked ritual that didn't have any meaning or deeper sense.

Shade approached the fish with a sad look on his muzzle. He knew that dragons normally do not feel much or have much of a need to send others deeper messages through their actions. Or, maybe had he just changed so much he no longer felt that he could understand his own race anymore? Had he become so abnormal that he felt sad upon realizing that he was just being used to preserve one's selfish existence? An existence having its motives coming out from fear alone?

Even with these feelings, Shade was still grateful. He couldn't even tell why; perhaps it was best that somebody tried to do it for him since his world changed. Maybe it was an embracing of memory of the old times when dragons used to greet each other in this way and his family was alive, or possibly he felt, just for a little, tiny moment, less alone.

It could've been all these things together, but he couldn't tell for sure. All he knew that tonight…

"I guess I'm going to help them tonight after all," Shade said out loud and he couldn't help but to smirk a little at his own words.

He scooped the fish and ate it quickly.

"That youngling has a good taste for fish. It would be a shame if he were to die tonight, wouldn't it?", Shade spoke and with one powerful swing of his wings, took off towards the village.

He knew what to look for. Humans had those things that threw rocks. They were dangerous, and humans seemed to protect them more than other structures. The reason was simple: such rock weapons could kill a few dragons in one go without risking a direct confrontation.

Shade found it hard at first to find a logical reason as to why humans would shoot big pieces of rocks into the direction of their own settlements, but soon he understood why. They could rebuild houses very fast, whereas the lost lives of their dragon enemies were quite permanent.

Usually, after the humans hid most of their livestock, their leader came to the highest of those things and protected it personally. Shade recognized it as a good strategic point of command. Had he been unable to fly, slow or impaired with non-existent night vision, he would've chosen the very same spot. Luckily for him, he didn't have to struggle with these limitations.

There was one more reason the human leader was there. Shade always destroyed these devices first, and he didn't have to worry about killing any human while shooting. When attacking he first let out a shriek, giving the humans a warning, and it always worked. The humans ran away as soon as they heard it and seemed to lose all their battle zeal. Shade couldn't understand why. He had never killed even one of them; he wasn't so dangerous, since all he did was to destroy few of their constructions. He was never seen, and he was even giving them a warning in the form of a shriek that he was incoming. Humans were beyond his comprehension, sometimes.

He knew that he had the most powerful firepower of all the dragons and that he was the fastest in the air; he preferred to think it was his awesomeness that scared them away. Most of the dragons were afraid of him, so why shouldn't humans be?

Shade liked to flatter himself occasionally. It helped keeping the bits of his dignity and pride together.

He circled around the ocean, waiting for the right moment to attack. He saw the Eska climbing the construction on which the human leader stood. The Eska set himself on fire and shattered the lower part of the structure, obviously going for the human leader.

Shade cursed; he knew that this youngling didn't stand a chance in this scuffle. Knowing that he only had a few moments, he twisted in the air and started to dive towards the battling pair. The Eska tried to bite the human, but the latter leaped away ably. Now it turned into a show of how to hit a dragon's head with something heavy.

Shade started to shriek, hoping it would stop them fighting. It certainly did. The Eska jumped immediately away and soared to the ground unsteadily, most probably affected by a few blows on the head.

The leader shouted something to the other humans present at the top of the construction, and they jumped down; he was the last to do so.

Shade increased his speed, folding his wings and keeping his body stiff. He heard the well-known whistling of the air as his wings cut through it. He kept his eyes focused on the target in front of him, clearing his mind and calming his senses.

Shade had one ability he was very proud of: he almost never missed with his fire. It was mostly due to his ability to concentrate fully on it, but there also was something more to it. The old dragons used to call it the _Daleg Letheri, the Battle Seer_. It was an ability that could only be achieved by very long training and practice. Fulfilling it gave you a skill to see everything around you more clearly, and made your decisions faster and better. Time seemed to flow slower, and the world seemed to overwhelm your mind. There were no thoughts or feelings then; it was like you were drifting in an ocean of nothingness, so calm and peaceful.

Shade loved this feeling; for a few heartbeats he didn't have to think or feel anything, consumed in the battle, forgetting who he was or why he was there. The only thing that mattered was the battle itself.

Shade felt his _Aeldengandari, the Lighting Spirit_, rise in his throat, ready to fire. He released it and changed his course to fly above the human construction. A fire bolt hit it exactly in the centre. It blew up in a beautiful blue flame, creating a bright blue halo around it for a split moment. Shade flew above it, hearing the wood cracking and the device fell down with a loud thud.

"This is how it's done younglings! Watch and weep from joy!" He roared loudly, not caring that probably nobody would hear him, much less care about what he just said.

Shade considered for a moment if he should give it another go. He was in a good mood today, so he decided shooting the construction one more time would not be such a bad idea.

Later, he would consider biting his own butt for this stupid last-minute decision.

He started to make a large circle, flapping his wings lazily. He was sure that, as always, the humans would start to hide and the dragons would leave, using this opportunity to steal any food they could. Content with the situation, he took his time making a larger round than usual. The sunrise had started brightening up the night sky. Shade started his descent to shoot one more time before leaving the battle field. This time he was relaxed, so sure that he was safe. He dived and shot his bolt at the wooden construction, flying at full speed above it.

He was about to take a last prideful look at the destruction he had caused when he heard a weird whistling sound, like something was flying towards him.

He didn't even have time to react. Something entwined tightly around his body, binding his wings and legs. Not even knowing what was happening, without any control over his flying trajectory, he shrieked in horror, falling towards the forest.

Seeing the incoming treetops, all he could do was try to ascend using his tail. He placed it as low as possible, trying to gain altitude. It helped him a little to decrease the descending angle. His tailfins started to break the branches on the tree tops. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his tail as something was torn out. He crashed down heavily, his chest striking a tree trunk, breaking it.

Falling on his side, he rolled violently many times before his body plunged from the small hill and fell on another tree, breaking it with the side of his body. That same side started to scrape along the ground, making a cavity in the soil while sliding through it. He felt scales tearing off; he also sensed that he was losing speed.

He stopped, his whole body aching. The side that had scraped the ground pinched with pain, probably torn to the muscle. His tail's left side pricked in agony.

He opened his eyes to see that half of his body had not yet fallen to the ground and was hovering above the cliff.

"Easy… nothing to panic about… you just fell to the ground with a speed that would kill anyone and then survived it, only to find yourself with an exciting opportunity to die by falling off a small cliff breaking your neck", Shade said with his usual ironic tone.

Perhaps this is what made his body twitch off balance, and he started falling forward very slowly, feeling the gravity do its work.

"I really do talk too much…", he said as his inert body slid over the edge of the cliff.

His last thought before his head hit the ground and he lost consciousness was:

_I swear I'll find that Eska, later, to return this fish and stick it up his…._

He hit the ground and everything went black.


	6. Shattered Illusion

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They belong to Dreamworks and Cressita Cowell.

AN: I do not like describing the scenes from the movie since it was done so many times already. However, it is necessary sometimes since I am writing about the movie events. The first few paragraphs are the longest part of the movie I included in my story (and I have much, much more written already), so bear through those few lines please.

Today it will be about the war, war again, life choices, finding your true self and acceptance that is not always relieving.

As always a giant thank you to Fjord Mustang, almne and Backroads.

Please Read and Review.

* * *

"Ok but I hit a Night Fury" Hiccup said to his father, trying to cover with his overwhelming charm the total disaster unfolding behind him.

Stoick didn't even wait for another explanation, probably afraid that his son's "charm" might cause even more problems, grabbed Hiccup by his shoulder and started to drag him away. Gobber was standing near and looked on with a worried expression."Not like the last few times, Dad! I mean I really, actually, hit it!" Hiccup defended in his best convincing voice. He really wasn't good at it. He continued talking now to the Vikings around him, who looked so bored at this often repeated ploy, "You guys were busy and I had a very clear shot… It went down just off Raven Point. Let's get a search party out there before…."

Stoick had enough.

"Stop!" He boomed, then he took a deep breath while touching his forehead, trying to find the strength to deal with that son of his, "Just... stop!" he said, almost pleadingly.

He continued in an accusing tone "Every time ya step outside, disaster falls! Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter is almost here and I have an entire village to feed!"

Hiccup looked guilty for a moment, but then he tried to ease the situation a bit.

He quipped, "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding,don't you think?" gesturing at the group of adult Vikings behind him. A few of them placed hands on their bellies, which did, honestly, clearly show from beneath their tunics.

Gobber just rolled his eyes and twisted his head in frustration, knowing Hiccup's words were not a good tactic to make this situation any better.

Stoick boomed again. "This isn't a joke, Hiccup!"

He exhaled then loudly, forcing himself not to lose patience and added with a disappointed voice, "Why can't ya follow th' simplest orders?"

Hiccup answered almost immediately, like he had this answer ready, "I can't stop myself. I see a dragon and I have to just..." then he placed his small hands in the air in front of him in an invisible grip and said ,while pretending that he was twisting some dragon's neck, a very anorectic dragon neck "..._kill it!_ You know, it's who I am, Dad," he finished in a voice that indicated he did not really believe his own words.

Stoick again placed his hand on his forehead, massaging it, and closed his eyes. He wanted to finish this conversation already; he had a lot to do and, from experience, talking with his son hadn't really changed the situation for the better in any way.

"Oh, you are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon killer is not one of them" Stoick said in a tired voice.

Regaining his composure he said to Hiccup in an ordering tone, "Get back to the house".

And added, turning to Gobber, "Make sure he gets there".

Gobber approached and hit Hiccup's head with the gentlest tap he could. This was a routine and Gobber didn't like hurting his apprentice, but he wanted to show Stoick that "Hiccup would learn his lesson".

Stoick turned and started to walk away, and both Gobber and Hiccup could still hear from him "I have his mess to clean up..."

Gobber observed as the already diminutive Hiccup seemed to shrink even more. Head bent forward, looking at the ground, stoop-shouldered with a sad look in his eyes. The blacksmith had learned how to read Hiccup's eyes expression thanks to the many years they had spent together.

As they walked back to the Chieftain's house, Gobber now saw the usual "Mocker's Lodge" created by the village teens. Gobber knew that the Mocking Lodge Players would soon start their ongoing performance that he thought of as "How to Ridicule The Village Weakling When You Yourself Only Have Half a Brain".

The first performer up was Tuffnut. He started by giving a two thumbs up gesture at Hiccup as he and Gobber trudged by. Next to him, Ruffnut laughed loudly.

"Quite a performance!" Tuffnut said ironically.

Snotlout took up the performance, literally, stepping so close to Hiccup as if he wanted to make him feel his breath in his face. Hiccup and Gobber certainly felt- and smelled it.

"I've never seen anyone mess up that badly! That helped!" Snotlout said putting an emphasis on every word with a big grin on his face.

Hiccup, as usual, just walked calmly by, without even looking at the group, as though their words didn't bother him at all.

"Thank you. Thank you. I was trying," Hiccup said and raised his hand in a pretended gesture of gratitude, "I'll just go to my house now, so I won't be swarmed up by my new fans".

Gobber didn't want the Mocking Lodge to continue this one-sided ridicule. He placed one of his big hands on Snotlout's face and threw him on the ground without much caring if he hurt him or not. Gobber knew that some kids learned only by violence and, without a doubt, Snotlout was one of these people.

But he saw also a very large boy with a forced smile on his face, like he was enjoying this. Gobber knew that this kid, in reality, wasn't enjoying this. He was only pretending to blend in with the Mocker's Lodge so he wouldn't be treated as an outsider. His name was Fishlegs Ingerman. He was wearing a large bear fur tunic without sleeves, that fell down to his knees, along with grass green leather trousers and brown fur boots. His eyes were light brown and shaggy blond hair was jutting out from beneath his helmet. He was on the chubby side, but his powerful-looking arms and chest showed that he also had a lot of strength in his body.

On a boulder, leaning against a house's wall, sat Astrid. She just took one glance at Hiccup, without changing her pensive expression. She then looked at the axe in her hands, playing absent-mindedly with it, now with a determined look on her face. She didn't seem to care about mocking Hiccup- or even talking to him.

Gobber walked in silence with his smaller companion. They were treading now into one of the alleys in the central part of the village, heading towards the south-western part to the Chieftain's house. Dense smoke lingered on the street, some of the buildings still burning. The smell of burned wood was overwhelming, but there was also a small trace of a smell every Viking knew very well: death.

Gobber took a look at the blood-splashed walls. He looked ahead and cursed silently under his nose.

Hiccup, lost in his thoughts, stopped abruptly upon hearing a splashing sound beneath his boots. It hadn't rained since yesterday. That thought made him focus his vision, on the ground, and he saw that he was standing in a puddle of blood.

Hiccup lifted his head slowly and saw the body of a dead dragon in front of him. It was a Gronkle lying on its side with its back facing him. Its lower wing lay bent in a weird direction, obviously broken. Its upper wing was stretched out and pointing towards the sky, flapping sadly in the wind, like a jagged flag. Its head lay on the ground, eyes half open and it appeared that the lower part of the jaw was missing.

Hiccup swallowed loudly and licked his suddenly dry lips. He took a step back from the puddle. Gobber looked to the right side and saw one of the Vikings cleaning blood from a curved dagger, using his leather leggings. In his other, blood stained, hand, he held a few small yellow stones examining them with a rather bored look on his face. Under his legs, was a Gronkle's jowl, cut out without any skill or care.

Gobber knew what those yellow stones were… gallstones. The blacksmith knew exactly what view to expect on the other side of the dragon. Those stones weren't valuable inside the village, but they could easily be sold to the travelling merchants. They were valued as a medicine to increase one's sexual potency.

Gobber didn't know how much idiots paid for the gallstones, but they obviously seemed willing to pay the asking price.

Generally, the jowls were useless to the villagers but they could be worth something being sold as a talisman to the travelling merchants.

The blacksmith looked at Hiccup; the scrawny teen was still looking at the dragon's dead body, biting his lip lightly.

Gobber placed his hand gently on Hiccup's shoulder, directing him out of the path of the dead dragon. They circled the corpse from the left side, Gobber placing himself on the right side of the teen, blocking his view. Hiccup looked pale and moved unsteadily. When they reached a further distance in front of it, the young man started to turn his head. Hiccup felt Gobber grip his shoulder a little harder, to get his attention.

"Don't look…," The blacksmith said softly.

Hiccup looked at his mentor's face. His voice didn't match his face. The blacksmith's features didn't betray anything, but Hiccup saw sparks of anger in Gobber's eyes.

The boy obeyed and looked at the ground, losing himself in his thoughts again. He saw his boots, now covered with blood, move on the ground, leaving small footprints in the soft soil.

Hiccup thought back about what had happened today. How he had shot down the Night Fury. Finally -after so many years- one of his inventions had worked!

Yet, he didn't feel a lot of joy. He remembered his father's tired face; his father's usual voice echoed in his head, full of disappointment, scrutinizing him.

His father rarely yelled at him, though he always had a good reason for it. Messing up with his dragon killing was a good reason, even in Hiccup's opinion. He failed with killing a dragon so many times, with his inventions and clumsy endeavours. In spite of all this, his father never raised a hand at him. He was always the chieftain. Even in his own house, he was charismatic, overflowing with self confidence and completely unapproachable.

Father and son rarely talked; most of the time their exchange of words was only when Hiccup had done something wrong.

The teen wanted to be like his father: strong, confident, never failing at anything. His thoughts shifted a little, thinking about the always-present choir of mocking voices, laughing at his undergrown physique and rather eccentric personality.

In Hiccup's opinion, _everything_ was wrong about him. Even if he always covered it with his ironic humour and seemingly nonchalant attitude, he didn't feel like one of the Vikings.

But after tonight…

He started to think furiously, contemplating the way he could prove his father and everybody else that he was not the screw-up everybody thought he was. He really _had_ shot down the Night Fury. All he had to do now was to get out there, find it, and bring some souvenir body part as a proof!

However, there was always the possibility that he just imagined all what had happened; it was dark and all he had seen for a moment was a horribly shrieking black silhouette.

He, downing the most mysterious and dangerous of all dragons, sounded a little crazy, even to Hiccup.

Feeling a little better, he started to march more briskly. Gobber, noticing that, removed his hand from Hiccup's shoulder without a word, adjusting to the new pace. But then Hiccup noticed a few of the Vikings dragging massacred dragon bodies, some headless, leaving a path of blood behind the corpses. He felt uneasy again and tried not to look too much.

"Ya don't like watching it, do ya? Gobber said. It wasn't uttered as a question, more like a statement.

Hiccup flinched a little, but after a moment started to walk as straight as he could, waving his arms and puffing his chest as much as he could. He tried to look more Viking-like, but he ended up looking more like some sort of a chicken who had been on a diet way too long.

"Who, me?" Hiccup said as if it were an insult to even think such a thing, "I could've killed a few dragons tonight and bathed in their blood, but you know… I just felt merciful…," He added a few nervous laughs at the end as an effect.

"What would we _ever_ do without ya….?" said Gobber in a not amused tone,

The blacksmith knew more about Hiccup's personality than any of the other villagers. Whenever Hiccup wound up around Gobber, he demonstrated even more of his 'unusual' warfare strategies and techniques. The blacksmith treated it as a sign of trust. Gobber had stopped using words like crazy, wacko and nutter years ago to describe such behaviour. He had come to realize that this scrawny boy seemed to open up more than usual around him.

Hiccup closed his eyes a little and his face features hardened slightly.

"_Here it comes_..." Gobber thought.

"I'll show you, all of you, very soon that I'm the best in –uh-Viking...,"Hiccup said while gesticulating widely in his usual manner.

He thought for a moment what to say next " -stuff, that... Vikings do…"

"Dragon killing?" Gobber supplied kindly.

"Yes! No! I mean…. that's only one of those things I'll be best at! For tonight I shot down the most dangerous, vicious, monstrous, terrifying, cruel, gruesome…," Hiccup was continuing his tirade.

Gobber started to clean out one of his ears with a finger, barely hearing words like "awesomeness", "kneeling" (or was it "killing"?) and "best" again. The blacksmith had heard this a few times before so he just waited for this outburst of pure eloquence to end.

"… the Night Fury!" Hiccup finished pointing his finger in the air.

Gobber gave up. He thought that it was just another one of those "I'm imagining stories so I can be the part of the community" things so popular between the adolescent boys. At the moment, Hiccup was the only teenage boy that represented such behaviour, but Gobber would just pretend that he was interested so the youth's demeanour would go away... like the previous time.

"So, ya shot down th' Night Fury? Gobber queried.

"Yes, the Mangler worked!" Hiccup answered excitedly.

"Mangler? That _thing_ that you worked on for the few past months, tied up few people, made a few holes in the walls of my workshop and today knocked out poor old Crankyitch?"

"Well… yes..," Hiccup agreed warily.

Noticing no further reaction he continued, "I really did it! I.. think..".

"Sure, kid" Gobber agreed but couldn't keep out a bit of irony from his voice.

"If only my dad would listen to me… he looks at me like I'm some sort of disgrace to him and the village... and he is right," the boy said in a gloomy voice.

Gobber felt pity for the scrawny teen. Hiccup rarely said things that showed his true feelings.

He thought for a moment to say something heart-warming.

"I'm sure he won't disown ya for that! Ya're the son of the Chieftain after all! Doncha worry!"

Gobber started to twist his moustache with a proud look, content of how well he was handling this situation.

Hiccup had his jaw opened for a moment with an unsure look on his face.

"Thank you… for that..," Hiccup finally answered. They were near the doors of his house now. The teen started to open it to disappear inside when Gobber said, " Try not t' worry so much Hiccup."

Hiccup looked at him for a moment and answered, "That's not gonna help me to become a better Viking..."

He closed the door, disappearing from Gobber's sight. The blacksmith sighed.

"When he will understand that being a Viking is not the only thing you can do?" he whispered and turned, going back to the village.

As soon as the door closed, Hiccup ran to the back door and rocketed outside, stumbling but managing to keep his balance. He started to run towards the tree line near his house. Dew-filled soft grass swished as he ran, leaving wet spots on his boots and trousers.

Hiccup ran into the forest now, dashing between the tree trunks and boulders. He felt so excited with the opportunity of finding the downed Night Fury that he didn't feel tired, even though he tripped and fell to the ground several times. He immediately got back on his feet and continued his sprint.

Soon he found himself leaving the forest and saw a large gorge in front of him. He stopped near the edge, breathing and sweating heavily, and looked down. The gully edges were very smooth, fully vertical without any rocks he could grab. At the bottom, he could see the ocean waves breaking on the stones and foaming.

Hiccup's hair was now being tousled by the wind blowing from the gully. The boy looked for the fallen tree he usually used to cross to the other side, but he couldn't see it anywhere.

He looked down and saw it lying at the bottom. It must have falled a few weeks ago.

Hiccup could have taken the other, lower, passage that was mostly used by the wood-cutters, but going through the Raven Point was the fastest way, even if a little risky. He started walking near the rim, trying to find any other fallen trees that could be used as a bridge.

"I'm sure there were a few…. Aha!" Hiccup shouted as he saw another tree placed across the chasm. He approached the side of the trunk and climbed on it. He wouldn't risk walking on it, so he sat on the wood and scooted forward, trying not to look down. Wood creaked under his weight with every movement.

"You can do it... You won't die, you still have so much to bless this world with," He said, trying to encourage himself.

He managed to reach the other side of the gully and, as he stepped onto the ground there, he raised his arms in a victorious gesture.

"As always, agile and skilful as a snow panther, Hiccup!" he praised himself, not noticing that he had just as skilfully made his butt wet by scooting across the very wet wood of the log.

He opened his fur vest and pulled out the notebook with a pencil in it that he always carried. He opened it at a page that illustrated a very well drawn map of Berk. He crossed the place where he was now and thought for a moment where he should go next.

Choosing to go in a zig-zag pattern, he turned left and started to run. Soon the usual morning mist started to cover the ground. Hiccup, after a few stumbles and familiarizing himself with the ground in this area, now switched to walking, deciding it would be a safer option. He had to be alive to kill that dragon and dying on an excursion would be a real irony of life. Plus, Hiccup knew that his life was a really ironic one, so he preferred not to risk it.

He was following his chosen route, stopping occasionally to place another cross in his notebook, marking the area as he thoroughly searched for downed dragons.

At one such stop he sneezed loudly.

"Oh, thank you..," he said to himself. It was his usual ironic response in this situation since, when he sneezed nobody ever said "Bless you" or even something that reflected usual village attitude towards him like, "Go dig some hole and die there… pretty please?"

He sneezed again. Hiccup started to worry a little. Since he was young he had been getting sick easily, much easier than the other kids.

The frequent visits to the Healer's house were only deepening the impression of how weak and different he was. He was there at least a few times a year with various ailments.

Most of the times it was just a flu, but Hiccup remembered that when he was young, he had come down with a very bad case of pneumonia. It had been while he was still recovering from his burns as a small child. He barely had any memory about what had happened then; the fever was making him that delirious. He had heard later that he squirmed in his bed, wringing away from the healers' arms and shouting something about going into the fire. His father had never told him this but he had overheard one of the healers mentioning to another that the infection from the burns had reached his lungs. It was a miracle that Hiccup had survived it.

Hiccup's hand instinctively wandered to his neck, touching the scar tissue that could be seen above the high collar. He always wore tunics that fully covered his chest and arms and had collars that could hide most of the scar on his neck.

Hiccup stopped rubbing the scar and started moving forward. He had a mission to do, and he didn't have time to be distracted now.

He felt his muscles getting tired already. It was another health complication he had since he was young. No matter how much he trained, he didn't get any muscle, felt tired and his endurance didn't really increase. The only thing he was good at was running away. He could run quite fast but only for short periods of time.

Even now, he soon started panting and feeling a little dizzy. He just hoped he would not get a high temperature again tonight after this, as he sometimes was feverish after an exhausting day.

He sat on a boulder and waited for the dizziness to fade away.

He looked at the map again. He was almost halfway done and still no sign of the dragon or even anything that would indicate that it was here. Hiccup could read tracks well. It didn't require strength or agility but brain power and a good eye. Luckily, he had both these skills well developed.

He looked at the sun's position, shining through the treetops. It was almost midday already. In the village, people most probably had finished with putting out the fires and would start to collect the bodies of dragons and people…

Hiccup stopped and looked at the silent forest in front of him. His mind filled with images of dead people and dragons. He saw the most recent one, that dead Gronckle with the cut out jowl. He remembered the oh-so-emotionless expression of the Viking who had his hands buried in the Gronkle's guts. Was killing so easy?

He drew out a dagger from where he had tucked it in his belt and looked at the sharp blade. He knew it was as acute as it could be; he had sharpened it himself. Daggers were the only weapon he could use with a miniscule dagree of efficiency.

He saw that Viking's curved dagger in his mind, fully covered in the Gronkle's blood, and how he had wiped it carelessly on trousers densely covered in blood as well.

Soon Hiccup's own clothes would be covered in blood, too. He took a life away. Or he would. He shook his head and stowed his dagger back into his belt.

"I can't think about such things, I am a Viking," He whispered, clenching his firsts and starting to march again.

Hiccup, like every Viking on Berk, had learned to live with death around him. However, even with this entire dragon war craze around him, he had never killed a dragon or person. Was it making him a worse kind of human? Was taking a life something everybody had to do sooner or later?

In Berk there was no other way around it. You killed or were killed.

Hiccup's memories were full of burning piles of dragon bodies, people dancing around them, holding hands together, singing and drinking joyfully. He remembered the funerals for slain Vikings, small boats with bodies on them, burning and slowly disappearing on the horizon.

Here, life was a gift, a very fragile one. You were never certain if you would live another day or if you would find your death in the shining metal blade or glistening white fangs of your enemy.

Hiccup was still moving on the path and marking the places where he had been already. Excitement was replaced by tiredness and irritation by now. He felt his stomach shrinking from hunger and the need to drink some water. At this rate he would never find the dragon. Maybe it had managed to break free and run away?

Or, even worse to consider, it never had been captured in the first place?

"It's ok, Hiccup, you are not a total wimp and loser. It is the universe plotting against you! It is using its minions in the form of…"

He tried to kick a sharp rock close to him, only to grab his foot and jump around in pain, swearing loudly.

After a few moments, he hissed from his pain-clenched teeth, "…malefic rocks!"

He then slapped a large branch in front of his face in frustration. It bent and returned the blow, slapping him hard across the face. This time, Hiccup was knocked to the ground and rolled around in pain swearing even louder.

He soon stopped and just lay on the grass, looking at the cloudy sky, feeling completely defeated and humiliated. He felt the skin on his face that had been struck by the branch start swelling.

"… or evil branches…," He said with a tired voice.

After a moment, he focused on the branch that caused his plight and followed it up to see the whole tree. It was as normal a tree as it should be, lots of branches, some leaves and a broken trunk like something slammed at it with supernaturally high speed while falling from the sky.

Nothing special.

_Wait!_ Hiccup sat upright faster than he had in his whole life. He knew that because as a kid he was practicing it during the many times he had been forced to stay in bed because of various illnesses. Weird hobbies some boys have.

Hiccup ran to the end of the path that was leading to a small hill. He saw a crater in the ground that ended at the perimeter of the precipice. Falling to the ground again, he crawled to the edge and slowly took a peek at the other side. He saw a black body lying on the ground. He hid immediately, feeling his heart thumping against his ribs and hearing only his breathing. He clumsily drew out his weapon squeezing it with both hands.

He took a few breaths to encourage himself, _This is it Hiccup! This is your chance_! he thought and with this resolve, he jumped above the hill edge, heading towards his destiny.

He slid down, catching for a brief moment a sign of a black sleek body on the ground and two big wings tied up with the bola. At the bottom he ran to the big boulder located there and hid behind it, leaning against it, holding his dagger with both hands taking deep breaths.

He took a peek from behind the rock and, before hiding back quickly, he saw this time two paws equipped with dangerous looking claws and something that looked like a head. It looked... dead. Hiccup looked again from behind his cover, this time more carefully.

_It is not moving… it is dead…, _he thought feeling the happiness rise inside him and another feeling that he would later identify as the relief that he wouldn't have to kill it personally.

"I did it!" he shouted joyfully, emerging from behind the rock. He approached the dragon and looked at it with a grin on his face. The head was flat, oval in shape with a thin horizontal line at the bottom going through the muzzle. Hiccup guessed that this was its mouth and lips. He also saw black eyelids almost unrecognizable from the dark skin around them.

Behind the head, there were four pairs of skin antennas, symmetrical to each other. Two medium sized antennas were at the top. The next largest pair lay flatly on the whole length of its short neck. At the sides two pairs: the first were half the size of the longest one and, then, at the bottom- the smallest pair.

Most of its chest was hidden from view because of the paw that was bent in the air by the ropes binding it against its body. Hiccup noticed its legs all were similar, each muscular and powerful-looking with four long claws. He also guessed that they were razor sharp and that slicing through his body wouldn't be a problem.

The one part that impressed Hiccup most were its wings. They were enormous compared to its body size, black and sleek- looking. They didn't have any claws on them, as the other dragons Hiccup knew. They were bound by the rope as well. The boy couldn't believe how lucky his shot was. It had perfectly hit the dragon, immobilizing its wings and front paws.

Hiccup took a look at the dragon's tail now. It was quite long, with a small pair of wings. The back of its tail was hidden behind the small rock. The teen also noticed that this dragon's skin wasn't fully covered in scales. Its muzzle had small scales but they looked smoother compared to other dragons. Its legs were covered with scales that were around the size of Hiccup's pinkie finger. The largest scales were on the dragon's chest, at least the part that the boy managed to see. The dragon's sides looked smooth, like a normal skin that wasn't covered in scales (almost like a person's skin?) and its tail skin looked the same.

Hiccup looked for a moment more, feeling joy and excitement rising to levels he never felt before.

"I really hit it! I didn't imagine it like the last time… That means I'm not the worst Viking ever!" Hiccup shouted cheerfully, raising his arms in his victorious gesture. He looked at the dragon in front of him again with a prideful grin.

"Now, I'm the best Viking ever! Kneel before me!" He outstretched his hands and turned left and right like he was blessing some imaginary crowd of imaginary people who were praising him in an imaginary-kind-of- way.

"Snotlout, you may take my underpants and wash them… What? No, you can't keep them! I gave you a pair already!" He raised his hand in a majestic way like he was shooing somebody away.

Now he bent his arms to make him look larger and puffed his chest in his standard hungry chicken posture.

"Astrid…" He said in his best charming voice".;. How about seeing me tonight?"

While saying this, Hiccup swiped his hair with his hand in a casual-macho sort of way, "No, I'm not going to drool nervously again..., That's the past me...," he laughed in a pretended flirty laugh as though he had said some excellent joke.

He continued, "Tonight, we will have Night Fury steaks. Would you like a wing or leg?"

He placed his leg on the dragon's shoulder trying to make himself look a little more manly. But before he could say anything else to his imaginary girlfriend, the dragon jerked and a small roar emerged from its throat.

Hiccup fell on his back crawling behind the rock. A few more painful roars echoed, but nothing else happened. The boy looked from behind the boulder.

The dragon tried to struggle, but the rope was restraining its movements. After looking for a bit longer at the dragon's futile attempts to break free, he approached the creature again knowing that he was safe.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm without any success the whirl of emotions building inside of him.

Later, he would think that he would have killed the dragon if he hadn't looked into its eye. The dragon's eye was green with a bit of yellow in it, the pupil was slit, black in color. What surprised Hiccup the most wasn't how big this eye was, but that when he looked at it he felt that the eye was looking far into the depths of his soul.

He felt vulnerable and exposed against such a look. He drew out his dagger, noticing that his hands were trembling along with his whole body. He felt the cold sweat on his back, and all he could hear was his breathing and a heart that was beating faster than in his entire life.

He took a few loud deep breaths, trying, and again failing, to make the shivering disappear. Mastering all his courage, he raised the dagger up to his head level, feeling his now sweaty hands squeeze the handle so hard that the skin on his knuckles became white.

He looked at the dragon's eye again, only to feel the hesitation inside him rise; he tried to ignore it. Hiccup looked in front of him, trying to get the look of the dragon's eye out of his mind, the eye that seemed so full of emotions, full of fear, surprise, pain…

"I'm gonna kill you, dragon!" he said hoarsely, feeling his throat go dry. He continued, trying to summon more power this time.

"I'm gonna…," At the thought about what to do next he felt weaker and started to shake harder. He licked his lips nervously. He knew what had to be done now.

"…I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father!"

It was the usual proof that you killed a dragon. Some Vikings dried and used them as a macabre decoration or sold them to travellers. Powdered dragon heart could be quite valuable. Berk's money came mostly from the conflict between humans and dragons. Long ago it was mostly from the cultivation, lumbering, mining, ship-building and other things that nobody even remembered now. The history was clouded, nothing mattered, only war... Humans just adapted, changing their way of living. As some Vikings would say "The world is turning, and you need to live from something, whether it is herding sheep or killing dragons".

Hiccup saw himself cut into the dragon's chest, cut through the skin and scales, feel the muscles and bones severed by the blade… Hiccup knew that this was impossible to do because of the ribs. His weapon was too small and he didn't have enough strength to cut through them, but he knew what to do…

He saw it once when he was younger, around eight, and he would never forget what happened back then. One of the visiting mercenaries, or as they called themselves, "Beast Bounty Hunters", had captured a Nadder with his bola and tied its legs, wings and muzzle.

These people came to Berk, mostly some mad warriors hungry for the wealth and fame killing a dragon could give them. Nobody liked having them inside the village, but a few more hands to defend the village were always welcome, no matter the reason.

The Visigoth mercenary in his exotic boiled leather armour and chain shirt raised his dagger, a little bigger than Hiccup's, above his head.

All of the Berk Vikings around him just hurried away; only a group of foreign warriors stayed, cheering, to watch the show.

The dragon was struggling violently, whimpering loudly. The mercenary laughed.

Hiccup saw the man stab the dragon just beneath its sternum and make a deep incision. The dragon started to roar and struggle even more, whimpering from pain and trying to roar pathetically. The warrior pulled out his weapon and the Nadder started to choke, disgorging blood. The foreign crowd around it started to cheer even more, waiting for the best part.

Young Hiccup looked at this with a shocked expression, petrified because of what was happening. It wasn't him suffering there, spilling out the blood from his damaged intestines, waiting to end as a sadistic attraction, but with every cut he felt like he was being cut himself. He felt bad for this dragon; his heart ached and he wanted to cry but he couldn't. He didn't understand such cruelty or why he felt so bad for his enemy, something he was supposed to hate and kill. Dragons deserved it, they killed so many of humans, destroyed so many homes and took so much of their livestock…

But still he felt his heart aching horribly. He wanted to shout to the mercenary to stop, but he couldn't move, couldn't think, he could only watch as the bounty hunter plunged his arm into the gaping wound, almost down to his shoulder.

The dragon started to struggle as hard as it could, but soon almost stopped moving, and its body started to convulse. The Visigoth mercenary with a yell pulled his arm out fiercely, raising it high, clutching the still-beating dragon's heart in his hand. The heart dripped with blood.

Young Hiccup felt like he was going to fall. He could only stare at this morbid scene with wide open eyes, breathing shallowly. He didn't know how this would have ended if Stoick and Gobber had not just appeared at a run, probably informed about this by the one of the villagers.

"What's goin' on here?"- Stoick boomed in a terrifying yell.

The group of foreign spectators dispersed, giving room for the Chieftain to enter the scene. He watched it for a moment, and his face turned into one of pure rage.

He roared and grabbed the dragon slayer's tunic in one hand and slammed him against a house wall, holding him above the ground. The heart fell out from the mercenary's bloody palm.

"What th' fuck is this Snakebane?" Stoick yelled loudly, hardening his grip on the young mercenary's tunic, "I explained our ways t' ya! We do not torture or kill for fun! If ya want to take a dragon's heart or whatever ya need to kill it first!"

Snakebane tried to laugh, but he only managed to gasp a few times. He was smiling like a madman and had an absent gaze.

"I killed it… Why even care what it feels?... The more it will suffer the better… right?" He said, trying to breathe before every sentence.

Stoick just slammed him once again against the wall and said in a frightening voice, "We ar' Vikings… We give our enemies a quick death, to save them suffering and to respect their challenge to kill us… No matter if it is a human or a dragon... This is th' war, not a game for the' kids like ya!"

Stoick threw him to the ground.

"Your job here is done, get your 'trophy' an' get lost from my sight!" he ordered looking into the angry dragon slayer's face. The mercenary grabbed the heart and marched away, sending a few hateful looks in Stoick's direction.

One of the villagers approached the Chieftain and said something while pointing at Hiccup. The Chieftain and Gobber, who was standing nearby, turned immediately into the boy's direction, both with horrified looks on their faces.

"Oh, Gods…," Gobber gasped, as they both hurried to him.

Stoick shook his son few times without any reaction. He took off his fur pelt, encircled his son with it. He lifted Hiccup into his arms with a worried expression. He knew that was something a young kid should never watch, but especially not Hiccup. He pressed his son harder to his chest, cursing that he had not been there to look out for him.

"Gobber…," he said quietly as his friend just approached and looked into Stoick's face seriously, "Tell those scavengers that they hav' t' leave my island. If they resist, ya know what t' do…"-

Gobber nodded and walked away. Stoick really hoped that they'd resist. It turned out, to his satisfaction, a few tried, Snakebane among them.

Hiccup had passed out then, so he didn't really remember what happened later. He remembered walking up in his bed, but as soon as the memories struck him, he barely managed to get to the chamber bowl, violently vomiting in it.

Stoick entered his room upon hearing his son, slamming the door. Hiccup tried to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, looking as nothing happened. His father just took the bowl to clean it and said that the bath was ready for him to wash himself.

Now, years later, Hiccup was standing in front of the dragon, and he felt that he was biting his lip hard, feeling the taste of the blood in his mouth.

He was about to kill the dragon! He had to, he was a Viking and this was something he was always dreaming about. This was not an ordinary dragon lying in front of him but a Night Fury, most feared of all dragons. It had to die, as a proof that Hiccup was worth something, that he was not a total waste of space.

To make his father proud…

"I'm a Viking..." He said looking ahead, trying not to meet the beast's eye. He tried to think about how he wanted to be a true Viking, respected and valued. But, most of all he wanted his father to finally look at him as the son that he always wanted to have, not the weakling he was now.

He was about to change his life for the better, for him, his father, for his village, so why was he feeling his heart starting to hurt at the very thought of killing this dragon?

He felt its green eye, haunting him, mocking him, laughing at him, taunting Hiccup would not be able to do it. He is too weak for it. Soon the scornful laughs in Hiccup's mind sounded like those of the the teens who were usually jeering at him.

He felt irritated. He shouted to the dragon looking at its big eye, "I'm a Viking!"

He didn't care if the dragon couldn't understand him; he wanted to find some strength in himself, anything that would make him finally do it. He couldn't bear looking into the dragon's eye anymore. It felt like he was looking into the eye of an intelligent and emotional being.

He closed his eyes and raised his dagger as high as he could and willed it to go down.

He heard the dragon whimper quietly and then fall silent. He opened his eye, looking at the dragon's closed eyelid now, and head lying on the ground, not moving. It was like the dragon was accepting its fate, waiting for the blow.

Hiccup closed his eyes again, clenched his teeth together and tried to make the weapon go down. All he could see and think was a defenceless and terrified dragon at his mercy. Its eye had never been mocking him; he was the one belittling himself.

His muscles tensed, but his arms didn't move at all, like some invisible force was forbidding him from doing it.

_Down… go down! Why won't it go down!... I have to do it! I can do it!... I can! I can_!, he thought, tensing even more, trying with all his resolve.

_I can't do it..._

He dropped his hands down and opened his eyes.

The dragon was still there, alive, lying in front of him with its eyelids closed, waiting for the finishing blow. Hiccup felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him like a tornado.

He knew now that he really was _not_ the Viking he always hoped he would be someday. He would not make his father proud or be accepted by the other villagers anymore. He was different.

All his hopes and dreams of being a Viking shattered at that moment. He couldn't deceive himself anymore, try to laugh sarcastically and just tell the others how wrong they are to think that he would never be a proper member of the tribe.

_I'm indeed the most useless, pathetic, weakest Viking ever! I can't even call myself a Viking anymore… I can't do anything right, even kill the most hated enemy of my village! Why did I have to be the one who was different? Why me, of all people? Why I can't be just a normal Viking child who would just kill a dragon when given a chance?... Why can't I make my father accept me?_

Hiccup pressed the hand holding the dagger to his eye, feeling it get wet. In his mind the words "Coward!" and "Weakling!" echoed repeatedly. He didn't want to cry, feeling the humiliation grow inside him even more.

He turned away from the dragon like he was ashamed of showing himself in this state in front of it and made a step like he wanted to run away but stopped.

Again the same force that was making him unable to kill the dragon was telling him to stop. He now knew what that was.

It had been his heart all along. The small part always inside of him that hated the violence, war and pain caused on others. It was why he felt the pain when others suffered, why he hated watching the death around him, why he even pitied the dragons.

This is just who he was. He couldn't run away from it, couldn't hide behind the shell of sarcastic behavior and ignorance. Listening to his heart he felt pity and regret for the dragon and anger and hate for himself.

"I did this," he whispered out loud and at that moment he knew that it was exactly what he thought.

He felt something loosen around his heart. If he couldn't be a Viking, he could be the person he really was, do what his heart desired and wanted now.

Without much thinking, he knelt in front of the dragon and started to cut the ropes one by one, and with each he felt that the invisible knot around his heart was disappearing. He didn't have to pretend anymore, forced to be somebody he was not. He could just be himself and now he wanted to set this dragon free.

He cut the last rope and stood up to run away.

What Hiccup didn't expect was that the dragon was not nearly dead but pretty much alive and very, very angry.

Before he even could make a step back he felt one of the dragon's paws strike behind his legs, making them lose contact with the ground. He didn't even see the next movement, faster than anything he ever would expect from the injured dragon. He could only guess that the dragon used his other paw to hit his chest sending him flying above the ground.

Hiccup soon hit the ground and started to roll, overwhelmed by the force. He slammed hard against the boulder, all the air forced out from his lungs and saw stars as his head hit the rock. His dagger fell out from his hand. Before the light blinded him for a second, he saw the dragon jump forward in a lighting motion with claws on his one paw outstretched, aiming for his neck.

Hiccup just managed to close his eyes, waiting for the blow that would decapitate him. He heard the sound of rock breaking and felt a stinging pain at the right part of his neck, but nothing that felt like losing a head.

He was still alive.

He opened his eyes slowly and saw two, big, toxic-green eyes looking at him with an angry expression. Hiccup would never have guessed that a dragon's eyes could express any feelings, but those draconic eyes were furious right now.

He saw with the corner of his eye two claws bored deeply in the rock on each side of his neck, like giant scissors ready to finish the job at any moment. The small cut on his neck had been made by one of the claws, and he had guessed correctly earlier that these were razor sharp. Normally he would've felt happy that he was right, but in this situation for some weird and inexplicable reasons, he was not.

He looked into the dragon's eyes, grasping his hands on its paw, trying to move it away without any success. Was the dragon trying to kill him by first showing how angry it was at having been shot down?

Every explanation was good in Hiccup's opinion now.

At first, Hiccup was afraid about dying, thinking about how it would feel. Would he die fast, or would the dragon have a leisurely revenge, biting his limbs off one by one?

However, soon some other thoughts appeared in his mind. It was all right for him to die, he deserved it, nobody would miss him or care about his disappearance. Life would just go on like nothing happened, without that annoying person who was considered totally useless in the first place.

He felt his body relax and started to feel peaceful with what was happening. The dragon, as if noticing Hiccup's reaction, raised its head and bared its fangs, opening the mouth.

Hiccup looked at it as the creature took a breath, as if to start a fire or to bite his head off.

But nothing like that happened.

The dragon stood there for a brief moment, and Hiccup could've sworn that its eyes showed not only anger but hesitation and fear. But that might've been only a light's reflection.

It lowered its head fast and roared into Hiccup's face louder than anything the boy had ever heard before. After a few terrifying moments, the dragon finished and, with a swift motion, plucked out its claws that had been dug in the stone

It turned away from the boy, using the stone near his face to place one of its hind legs to gain momentum or, as Hiccup suspected, to scare him, as the upper part of the rock shattered from the force.

Before Hiccup could even blink, the dragon was gone.

Only a few branches swung, still indicating where the dragon flew away. A few distant roars echoed.

Hiccup lay, breathing heavily and holding his hand on the chest where his heart was trying to slow down. He didn't even know what exactly had just happened; he took his dagger in his hand automatically and stood unsteadily. Then he felt and thought a few things at once.

_I just survived meeting the most dangerous dragon and found a few truths about myself, quite an eventful… day… for me... I… think…_

Hiccup felt the pain at the back of his head grow. His head must have hit the rock harder than he thought.

He tried to take a step but, after feeling all the fear, stress and pain from the day overwhelm him, Hiccup did what every other man would've done in this situation.

He fainted.

* * *

The wind gently caressed the wisps of hair on Hiccup's head. The darkness didn't dominate the forest completely yet, making the teen's features still clearly visible. The boy's face lay on its side on the dry sandy soil, his mouth opened slightly, breathing peacefully. On his neck a cut had stopped bleeding long ago, a small path of dried blood had trickled from the wound, across the neck, to the ground. His clothes were completely wrinkled and soiled in dirt .

The youth's breathing changed and a quiet groan resounded. His eyes opened slowly and, using his hands as support, he lifted his head and then, with difficulty, the rest of his upper body, ending in a kneeling position, almost sitting on his toes.

"What happ-…," he said hoarsely.

He didn't finish because, as he turned his head to the right, he noticed the rope pieces and three small round rocks lying on the ground, a reminiscence of what had happened.

At the sight his eyes dropped, expressing the sadness intensifying like an avalanche in the boy's heart. He looked to his left and saw his dagger. The handle was reflecting the light coming from between the trees; the blade was partially covered in soil.

He grabbed the handle with his left hand absent-mindedly and placed the hand holding it on his knee, with the blade pointing left. He looked at it, the blade still a little dirty, and saw the reflection of his melancholic green eyes in the metal.

A small drop of wetness fell on the dagger, marking it and making a small cavity in the sandy earth on it. Hiccup, surprised, lifted his right hand to his eye and felt tears streaking down his face. He didn't want to cry, he hadn't cried for a very long time, but the tears were coming out against his wishes anyway.

His hand grabbed the dagger handle more tightly, curling into a fist. He felt that something had broken in him, something lost that he would never get back again. Not able to control this emotion any longer, he let it overpower him. He started to sob quietly, head bent so his hair concealed his eyes, lips twisted in a painful grimace. Tears fell on his curled hand and the dagger's blade, cleaning away the remaining soil staining it.

Hiccup tried to be as quiet as possible. He really tried.


	7. Looming Storm

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.

AN: More measurements, 1 latr= around 2 km. This chapter is one of the more important ones. It introduces a new character that is going to play a bigger role after the movie events and you can see the first insight at the world around. The post-movie events won't include Berk only but other parts of the world as well. Please Read and Review.

* * *

The atmosphere in the Mead Hall was quite tense. People were leaving in a rush to attend to their regular duties after the dragon raid.

Spitelout finished his meal, and his mind returned to the prior events. The meeting was held in the Council House, the building that was only used for the meetings of utter importance, where all the citizens had to attend.

It turned out to be another of the Chieftain's discussions about the possibility to try to attack the dragons' island. Most of the people thought that it was suicidal. One out of every three drakkars returned from this 'little 'excursion, so their worries were quite justified. Stoick, this time, had managed to talk to the Elder and had her blessing.

At first, almost nobody volunteered.

Then, Spitelout raised his hand in favor of this decision. The other Vikings, seeing that the First Commander supported it, joined hesitantly and it was settled.

The next dragon lair search party would leave at night to be at Helheim Gate at dawn. Nobody knew exactly where the rumored Dragon Lair was, nobody had ever managed to find it, not even to get near the area.

Stoick only took those who joined the mission on their own free will. He could just order the cooperation, but he had never done it when it came to the search for the dragon nest. It was far more dangerous than any normal battle could be; going there you had to expect that you'd most surely never come back. He was giving his people a choice, even if the choice was just an illusion. A true Berk Viking, having a blessing from Gods, would never decline a battle that would lead to a glorious death. Spitelout understood that, but still respected Stoick for his cunningness. A true leader could achieve what he wanted and make people think that they did that choice for themselves. Clever and efficient.

Spitelout liked simplicity and, if something was simple, clever and efficient at the same time, he truly admired it. It was the quintessence of Viking thinking. Stoick was always like that, even if a little too hot headed when it came to dragons, but still he was a good leader in Spitelout's opinion.

However, Spitelout wanted to be a Chieftain himself, and it could happen only if either Stoick died naturally or in battle- or if he won a duel to the death with him. The first option was quite probable, but it applied to all Vikings, Spitelout as well. As the First Commander, after all, he had to be an example to others. He joined every quest and battle for a reason, because of which he never tried the second option. He cared about Berk more than about his own desires. Even his own hope of being the next leader of the tribe was small compared to his desire to protect his village.

The current Chieftain was a good one and, as long as it stayed this way, he was satisfied.

He was sure that, sooner or later, his son would become the leader of the tribe, surely not Hiccup…

At the very thought, his body twitched from the repulsion he felt for the boy. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, that pathetic excuse for a Viking, weak beyond redemption, horribly irritating, hated and ignored by the whole village. Always bringing trouble and shame to his father.

However, the Haddock family was shrinking. All of the relatives were now living on other islands, trying to stay away from the war. Among Stoick's immediate family, his mother and father had died long ago, both in battle.

Then there was his wife Valhalarama…

There were many rumors about her death, too many in Spitelout's opinion. He was not a man to think about something he heard as a gossip. Stoick's only son miraculously escaped death. He could have died a disgraceful death from illness when he was young, but somehow he had not. Spitelout wondered how that kid had managed to keep himself alive for so long, taking into account how weak he was. A Viking without a strong arm was a useless Viking.

The upcoming Dragon Training could predict who the future leader might be. Spitelout's own son had a slight chance to place first in the training it. If his son prevailed he could have an upper hand for the leader's high seat.

Spitelout was aware that this foreign-born Astrid Hofferson would most probably win the Dragon Training.

Spitelout did not believe in his son, even if he knew that he had a great potential. Snotlout lacked the one thing that distinguished the good from the best: intelligence. His son was simply stupid. Spitelout was aware of that, so he had factored this in from the beginning. He was a man with a very vibrant and sharp mind. He knew how to think without emotions, and he tried to do it most of the time. Feelings just clouded your judgment and kept you from achieving your goals.

Finishing his meal, Spitelout gulped down a mug of diluted mead, feeling refreshed. He needed strength today. He had a lot of duties to attend to, and he took pride in what he was doing.

Spitelout grabbed his golden helmet from the table and put it on his head. Then he marched to the table where Stoick and Gobber were sitting, talking. Seeing Spitelout approaching they stopped their conversation. He only managed to catch Gobber saying, "Think 'bout what I've said concernin' th' lad's trainin'."

Spitelout just waited as the blacksmith stood and approached him.

"First Commander," Gobber said cheerfully, bowing his head a little.

"Gobber," Splitelout returned the gesture but he said it in his usual emotionless voice.

"If ya excuse me, I've a lot t' do now: hammerin', bendin'weapons, makin' nails an' shields. So boring but, oh well, somebody has t' do it," Gobber said in a pleasant tone.

"Of course," Spitelout stated, not bothering to say anything else.

Gobber gave Spitelout's shoulder a friendly pat and left, limping towards the exit.

Spitelout's eyes followed him for a moment. Of all the people on Berk, the Master Blacksmith was a complete mystery to him. He wasn't sure if Gobber liked him or not, if the usual cheerful attitude was just one of the masks he wore.

Spitelout's mind, as sharp as it was, couldn't decipher this man, but he didn't really care. All he wanted to know was that Gobber respected him; he didn't have to like him to do that.

He altered his gaze and took a step closer to the table. Stoick looked like he was contemplating something, but as he saw who was standing near his table his face features hardened.

"How ar' repairs goin'?" Stoick said looking directly into Spitelout's eyes.

"Two drakkars were destroyed beyond repair. New ones have already been ordered from Ingerman's. The knarr was only lightly burned, an' its forward star port hull was damaged by a Gronkle's blast. Repairs ar' on th' way. Thirty four homes were destroyed, most of them will have to be rebuilt completely. I'll hav' a full report before our departure, I'll forward it to th' four district wardens," Spitelout answered calmly, returning the stare without even blinking.

Stoick nodded. With him and the First Commander taking part in the mission, the leadership function would go to the district wardens. Berk had four of them, each responsible for one part of the village: south, north, west and east. This made the rebuilding quicker and easier. Each of the wardens had different duties besides rebuilding and making reports after dragon or Outcast raids.

_South_ was responsible for mining and everything concerned with stone processing. _West_ was in charge of lumbering and sheep herding. _East_ oversaw tillage of every sort; Berk didn't have a lot of good grounds, for its soil and the weather were hard on plants. Keeping the cultivations alive was a quite hard job. _North_ district part was the main seafood supplier, specializing in fishing, ship construction and other maritime matters.

That, of course, didn't mean that the people living in these areas needed to do what their district was responsible for. The Vikings that were doing these specific tasks had to report to their respective wardens from time to time, and the use of words like _a lot, a little_ and _freaking small_ was permitted since not all of them liked using numbers. This was one of the things that Berk Vikings had to adapt to. Monitoring supplies in such a harsh environment was a necessity.

Spitelout reported everything he knew about casualties and time schedules for the day, also finalizing the plans for tonight's search quest. Spitelout suggested a few things, all of which Stoick accepted.

After this report, the First Commander left, bowing.

The Chieftain sat and drank his mead, lost in thought. He wasn't leaving to supervise Berk's repairs; he was waiting for somebody, a person he met this time every year for the same purpose. That person was in the village taking care of his trading business in this area.

Soon the doors opened and from under the leather doorway curtain, emerged a very original looking man. He was wearing a white jacket with a dense white fur hood, blood red leggings and high laced leather boots ending below his knee, red in colour as well. The man had a tanned face with a maze of wrinkles, evidently from a long life at sea. His raven black hair fell to his shoulders. It was now tied back in a low ponytail. His eyes were brown, and on one he wore a monocle with golden rims. This was something he always wore. He had explained to Stoick long ago that it was some sort of vision improver. A small golden cord was attached to it and the other end disappeared into his jacket.

He sported a perfectly trimmed short black moustache which ends were rakishly twirled. In his mouth hung another of the things he never parted with- a brown pipe from which white smoke puffed, always smelling like tobacco mixed with cherry leaves.

Otherwise, he looked to be around Stoick's age.

He started walking smartly to the Chieftain's table with grace and swiftness, Stoick knew this was the walk of people who were used to wearing heavy armors and weapons. Ironically, this man was never armed.

This man was a professional soldier, at least used to be. He had fought as one of the guerrilla mountain troops near Milano City, that regularly sabotaged supply roads leading to the front lines, 300 latrs away.

This guerrilla troop had been fighting the steadily growing Nyarlekós Empire. One day this man's unit had been trapped in an attack, and only he had survived. After that event, he started to tell stories about glowing flying metal balls, sticks that shot thunder and people that could set themselves on fire without hurting themselves.

He had been very young, then, and his stories had been treated as nothing else as the blabbering of a madman who had lost all his friends and family in a war. He was not the first who had, and he would not be the last. Soon that young soldier stopped trying to convince others that he was telling the truth.

Stoick knew all of this. It was quite a popular story among the mercenaries, especially among those who wanted to badmouth the rival prospering better than they.

Good old human envy.

Stoick smiled and stood up, shaking hands with the merchant. The white coated man had a very strong grip, matching Stoick in the force he applied.

The Chieftain was the first to speak," It's th' pleasure t' see ya again, Braedan."

"Pleasure is all mine, my dear friend," The merchant answered in a deep and rich voice. His accent was exotic, but the words he was uttering were all very clear.

The chieftain gestured to the table at the farthest corner on the left, the usual place where they could talk without being disturbed and most importantly, eavesdropped. It was a small round table with two sturdy oak chairs. On the table, there were a few clay bottles of the finest Berk mead, two cups and two large plates with a selection of meats and vegetables.

"Please," Said Stoick pointing to the chair on his right.

"Thank you," Braedan answered taking his seat and then putting one leg on another, relaxing completely.

He waited until his host took a seat himself then continued, "I reckon that my frequent arrivals will make the lady who manages your Mead Hall die from exhaustion. As always, this meal looks fabulous. Please forward my deepest thanks to the kind woman that made it for us".

Stoick laughed loudly, "Ya'll b' able t' tell this to Bertha herself. She should b' here in th' evening, we still have a lot to clean up."

"I couldn't help but to notice," Braedan said with a bit of bitterness in his voice," However, I can say that your village is prospering very well. Only today, I sold a few of my weapons and your dignified friend, Gobber, also ordered two centars of my finest iron. He paid without even bargaining. Such a shame," he sighed twisting his pipe between his fingers," I really wanted to give him a good discount! Tell me, my friend, from where are you getting all this wealth?" Braedan queried, looking interested.

Stoick answered without any hesitation, "From killin', obviously."

The merchant didn't look surprised at all. Stoick, using the moment of silence, opened the first flask and poured the mead into his guest's cup first and then into his own. Then he took his mug and saluted the trader. Braedan took his own cup, answering the gesture, and both of them gulped their whole cups down in one go.

Stoick was first to finish. Braedan soon followed and said with a smile, "You are, as usual, in excellent shape, making me drink so fast. The sad news is, when I'm drunk I'm even more stingy than usual."

"Today I would like t' talk 'bout something' else than trading," Stoick said, helping himself to a roasted chicken leg.

"Oh, and what that would be…?" The merchant questioned, pretending not to know the answer.

"That, what I've been payin' ya for the previous fifteen years," Stoick answered teasingly, smiling.

"Seventeen," Braedan corrected calmly, "It is quite cruel, won't you even ask how your old friend business is going first?" he added, furrowing his bushy brows, with poorly faked sorrow.

"How is your business going, old friend?" Stoick asked, grinning.

Braedan's face brightened with a small smirk, "Quite well, how _considerate_ of you to ask. However, lately, the Outcast attempts to try to steal from me have become more numerous. Sadly for them, none were successful," he scanned the place in front of him, "They are like hungry mad dogs now, attacking desperately, even when they do not have a chance to win. No wonder, since the Empire's military patrols have increased their number," The trader said, mimicking Stoick and choosing chicken leg as well, and with a large wooden spoon adding a few boiled carrots, peas and a bit of spinach with sliced garlic in it. Then he took out a silver fork and knife from beneath his jacket and started to eat. Stoick looked at it as always in disbelief, not understanding his guest's logic. Cutlery was certainly elegant but horribly inefficient.

"Ar' they her' already?" Stoick's face was serious now, his fingers gripping the mug harder.

Braedan's ship was the only one that was allowed to enter the Mainland's waters. There was an embargo for all the Iceland trade caused by the stupid quarrel between the honorable governing Kings.

Vikings did not care about the surrounding world, especially Berk Vikings. They had much more important things on their minds.

"Not quite...the Northern Federation still hasn't fallen, they have the upper hand over the seas for now." The trader answered, and took a sip from his cup.

"Northern Federation? I don't even know what that is. I guess I hav' missed another small revolution," Stoick said without much care in his voice.

"Not so small, my friend. To be truthful, it is the biggest thing that happened in the Mainland for a very long time. Most of the kingdoms joined. I'm sure you know most of them: the kingdoms of England, of Alba, of Norway, of Sweden and the United Kingdom of Cymru," Braedan ate another piece of carrot and swallowed before speaking.

"However, Sweden is going to fall soon, most of their land has been taken already. Their new king managed to persuade other parties to let them join," The merchant paused and finished his meal. He took off his monocle and pulled a small piece of white cloth from beneath his coat. He started to wipe the monocle glass with care.

"So they hav' a new king now? What happened t' th' old one?" Stoick asked, observing the man in front of him.

"Absolutely no idea," Braedan replied, with true honesty in his voice "Most likely stabbed, poisoned or died in a very tragic 'incident'. The struggle for power is an inseparable part of human nature, especially where money is involved".

Stoick raised a brow questioningly. The merchant lifted his monocle to the light of a torch attached to the wooden support pillar nearby. Satisfied, he put it back on and hid the cleaning cloth behind his jacket again.

"Sweden is well known for the great quality of wood it has and its silver and copper mines, but mainly it is valued for giving rights to lumber its trees. The Empire stopped its advance in the middle of Sweden and started to extract as much lumber as they could, I guess for a new fleet of ships. The trees there are very valuable, not only because they are healthy and old, but also for how tall they are, an excellent source of future mast." He took a flatbread from the tray and wiped with it the grease from the chicken left on his dish, then he started eating the bread in small bites.

"The remaining part of Sweden is in chaos. There are rumours about civil war. The new king is selling silver from the remaining mines for an incredulously cheap price, trying to get as much money as possible for himself while his people are starving to death," Braedan heaved a deep sigh.

He continued, watching Stoick eating a smoked eel eagerly, "That was Sweden's best playing card when they first joined. It was not a secret where all this silver was going- to the other countries in the Federation. If you ask me, the probability for other countries to help Sweden now are very low, nonexistent I would say. The other kingdoms will just squeeze them like an old lemon and leave them as the sacrificial lamb." His voice become a little darker now, "Sweden is a lost cause now. The terrain in its northern part is very hard to get to, always cold and snowy. Protecting it would require too many resources, it simply won't be affordable," Braedan said and took another gulp of his mead.

Stoick was silent for a moment then he opened another flask of mead.

"Ya're certainly worth your money. Can ya tell me more' bout this Federation?" Stoick finally asked.

Both of them conversed about it for a long time, eating and drinking, in Braedan's case drinking only. The Chieftain wasn't really concerned about the newly formed union but there was one thing that he was concerned about.

The Empire had started sending their military ships under heavy escort up north, closer to Berk, too close for Stoick's taste. He wanted to avoid the conflict for now, until the Vikings had solved the dragon problem here.

Most of the Mainland was at war now. It was nothing new; it had been going on for more than three hundred years. The situation now was quite stable compared to what had been happening around forty years ago.

At least Braedan said so. Before him, Berk had no information about the Mainland and wasn't interested in it. The Empire had stopped its advance suddenly and, from what Stoick had heard, it was sending a lot of emissaries and search parties. The Chieftain was especially interested in the latter, because some of the ships were making it up to the Caledonian Ocean.

Braedan said there was a report of strange ships matching the description of Empire's standard line cruisers with an escort of few light destroyers. They had been spotted few months ago, roughly 700 latrs away.

"What ar' they searchin' for?" Stoick asked, his eyes boring into the trader's.

"Nobody knows," Braedan answered shortly, continuing his ceaseless puffing "Surprisingly, these ships are avoiding combat whenever possible, even with their technological advantage. The Empire's ships are faster than any vessel the Federation has."

Stoick, using the short pause, gestured to the smoked lamb on the tray, offering it to his guest. Braedan declined politely with a small shake of his head and raised hand.

"Five of England's heavy destroyers managed to catch up to one Empirical reconnaissance ship only because it had some mechanical problems. Even with such dominance in numbers and the superior weight of the ships, only two of England's destroyers managed to return, both badly damaged. The rest were obliterated." Braedan said, trying to make it sound casual.

"How's that possible?" Stoick asked, clearly shaken. He knew a lot about battling on the water, even though Berk's ships were comparatively smaller. Fighting on the sea was the same.

Five large vessels losing such terribly to a much smaller ship was something he had never heard before.

Braedan took his pipe and tapped it on the table corner, making all the ashes fall out. Then he slowly took out a small sack from beneath his jacket and calmly filled his pipe with tobacco. Next, he took out a small wooden stick and tamped down the tobacco leaves with its tip. Stoick didn't say anything and just let his guest do his ritual. The Chieftain knew that he would receive his answers sooner or later; he always did.

Braedan lit the tip of the stick from the flame of the candle on the table. He inhaled the fumes deeply and blew up a big cloud of white smoke that had a distinct cherry petal smell to it. The merchant remained silent a while longer, wearing a thoughtful expression like he was considering something.

Finally, he looked into Stoick's eyes and said in a serious tone, "What I'm about to tell you is highly classified. I only managed to get this information through one of my contacts who was working in one of the ports where the damaged English ships were moored. He was found dead shortly after he told me this; others connected with this matter started to disappear," Braedan inhaled another cherry smelling smoke puff and breathed it out, looking how the fumes danced in the air, remaining calm.

Stoick knew exactly why, even while threatened with death, Braedan could still remain calm and focused. It was not the first time the man in front of him had faced the possibility of death. He had, after all been a soldier; death was something natural in his life.

It was natural for both of them.

Stoick nodded, understanding the responsibility the merchant had to bear. The Chieftain's respect raised even more for the man in front of him. Gathering information was something Braedan claimed he did mostly for himself, as he said he liked to know what is going on around. Stoick didn't believe it, but as long as he was getting useful information, his guest could be a mountain troll for all he cared.

Braedan spoke, biting harder on his pipe mouthpiece, "The ship that sailed into the port had holes in its hull, around three elbows in size, and the wood around it was burned, almost like the hole that your knarr has on its bow-"

Stoick wanted to say something, clearly surprised, but the merchant raised his hand, signalizing that he wasn't finished.

"No, it wasn't dragon fire that produced such damage. If this had been a dragon, I would have understood what happened but since it wasn't…," Braedan sucked on his pipe again.

Stoick started to get impatient with those enigmatic explanations. The merchant noticed it and smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry for delaying your answer. I just had to think how to describe it to you. The reports were different depending on each seaman, but most of them were terrified by what they had seen. If you cut out the blabbering part out along with the religious superstition, though, you could get quite a simple picture." He indeed sounded like it was something simple.

"The Empire's frigate had some sort of the weapons that were used on that ship. They were described as large tubes of metal that were shooting large balls of iron. Along with each blast, the weapons also shot, as some seamen retold, tongues of flame." He said that naturally, like it was something obvious.

"The projectiles themselves were going through the ship, easily destroying everything in their path. I would guess it was some sort of explosion that propelled these metal balls," the merchant stopped and thought for a moment.

This time Stoick just waited calmly.

Braedan soon continued, "The technology itself is known only to the highest ranked officers of the Kingdom of England, but it has never been used before. The first complicating factor is that the black powder that the English emissaries managed to get from China around twenty years ago is too unstable to be used in more than a simple bomb, at least for now. The gunpowder is also insanely expensive; one shot is worth around three hundred cows. A Cow costs today 1 floren and few dimes, depends where. That's paying around three hundred twenty florens or sixty four ounces of gold. With every shot costing around 2 pounds of gold… no wonder _bombards_, the prototype weapons for the English, are not used commonly," He added absent-mindedly.

As soon as he spotted the bored expression on Stoick's face, he cleared his throat and continued, "Secondly, the method of casting such large objects from metal is currently impossible for the Federation. How the Empire manages to create them is a mystery. Another unknown is how their ships manage to be afloat and reach such speeds when some parts of their hull are covered in metal. It makes it much harder to destroy the ship by using rocks hurled by catapults like yours, I may say." Braedan nodded to Stoick approvingly.

"The sails of the Empire ships are also quite interesting. They are able to rotate, and it gives the Empire an ability to travel almost against the wind. They also do not use oars to steer but some sort of wooden piece that is submerged beneath the water level; we don't know how it is controlled exactly." He sighed and scratched his nose, blatantly unhappy from this lack of information.

"The English, after losing three ships and most of their borders, managed to kill the majority of the enemy crew, but then the Empire ship blew itself up," Braedan said, clenching his teeth on the pipe-tip.

"What d' ya mean blew up?" Stoick asked, his fingers tapping the table restlessly.

"Simply, in one moment there was an Empire frigate and, a moment later only flying, flaming debris. They preferred dying in a gun powder explosion rather than revealing their secrets." He smirked slightly.

"Three English ships that were hitched on with ropes for attack boarding were also destroyed immediately; only a few people survived. The flotsam of the destroyed frigate was taken, and now its location is considered a matter of Federation security.

"Also one of the Empire's crew was equipped with a stick… that was shooting fire," Braedan looked deeply into Stoick's eyes," One of the English soldiers gave evidence that he saw that man going under the deck before the explosion. Neither the soldier's body nor the weapon were found,"

The chieftain now started to worry seriously. Were these the same sticks that this trader was talking about thirty years ago? What if the things he had been saying then were _not_ a mad man's dream?

"Were any 'f those… weapons acquired by the English?" Stoick queried, his fingers still striking the wood.

"Again, nobody knows that. My guess, again, is that most probably yes, it is only a matter of time before Federation will break a few secrets of the Empire's technology." Braedan said correcting his monocle position a bit.

"Whether this whole 'incident' was planned or not, it created a situation very favourable for the Empire to push forward with its explorations. The Federation's ships are now patrolling only with large escorts , making them slow, a perfect moment for the Empire's ships to outmanoeuvre them and just swim away," Braedan said breaching out another cloud of white mist.

The silence engulfed the two men sitting in the dimmed hall. Only quiet fizzing from the torches and distant conversations disturbed it.

Stoick held his mug in his hand, making the liquid inside spin, looking at it, thinking. Braedan was silent as well; he just smoked his pipe slowly with an undisturbed expression on his face and waited. Stoick swiped his hair with his hand, "I would like t' know what happened thirty years ago when ya were fightin' in the resistance," Stoick said gravely, looking at the merchant.

Braedan didn't move for an instant, then bent his head a little, making the light from the candle reflect in his monocle and the other eye became shadowed by the darkness so that it was impossible to read his eyes.

He said in a dark voice, so different from his usual calm one, "Are you sure? It is not something anyone would believe. Sometimes I don't know anymore if it was just a nightmare or not"

"Still, I want t' hear it," Stoick answered, tangling his fingers together.

Braedan didn't move at all, his face still hidden in the darkness. The voice in which he started to talk was heavy and grim, "It all happened eight days after spring solstice, I can still remember that day very clearly…"

* * *

"I woke up soon, feeling worse than I ever felt in my entire life. There was no sign of that soldier, but there was still a pile of grey ash in front of me. I was badly injured and barely managed to stagger away from the fire and find shelter in the nearby village. They sheltered me and healed me. After that, I escaped to the west, pretending to be a trader's apprentice. Soon, it proved that I was quite gifted when it came to numbers, and I became one myself for real. As a farewell gift from my master I received this monocle ' To see things truly as they really are'".

"My mentor was an Imperial merchant who was specializing in glass goods. You can't even imagine what wonders you could see coming from the Empire…," Braedan took off his monocle and looked at it, smiling from the memories. He put the monocle back and carried on with his normal tone, "I wanted to be as far away as possible from the war so I chose the Caledonian Ocean, learned your language and now I'm here" he ended cheerfully.

Stoick didn't say anything, still trying to understand what he had just heard. It was unbelievable, simply impossible for such things to exist in this world. He played with his mug again, making the mead spin inside, thinking.

Braedan, whose pipe had long since burned off its tobacco, started his ritual of filling it again. While he was using his small stick to light up the leaves, he said nonchalantly, "I almost forgot to show you some proof, my friend."

Stoick, at these words, raised his head and looked at his guest with anticipation.

Braedan twisted his head from side to side like he was admiring the beauty of Viking decoration skills, including such wonders as wooden logs, or a wooden board sprinkled with spider webs. In reality, he checked if nobody was looking.

He grabbed his left sleeve and pulled it down.

Stoick almost fell from his chair. There, in the middle of his forearm was a big, deep burned scar… and it looked like a human hand. Stoick wasn't superstitious, but he was afraid of the possibility that this had been done by something unnatural.

Braedan, noticing the Chieftain's behavior, hid the scar under his sleeve again, puffed away another white cloud and smiled broadly.

"I'm sorry for ruining your appetite, next time I promise to warn you before showing it," Braedan said in apologetic voice.

"I-It's all right," Stoick answered, regaining his composure. None of them spoke for a longer moment.

"I'm sure there are matters you would like to tend to now…," The merchant suggested.

Stoick nodded and took a small leather sack from his belt and dropped it on the table in front of the trader. It jangled on contact with the wooden surface. Braedan took it in his palm and jounced it a few times. Then he smiled and put it down gently before Stoick's surprised face.

"This time, my friend, I don't need any compensation."

The Chieftain was about to say something when Braedan raised his hand again to silence him, "I'm a merchant and I know the value of money, but I do not need it now, after you've heard my story. It means more to me than any gold you could offer me."

Stoick nodded and beamed, "Well then, at least let me thank ya for the news from th' big world an' let me offer ya a flask of the finest Berk's mead ta keep ya warm in the upcoming nights!"

Braedan laughed and took the big, sealed flask from the table.

"This offer, I cannot refuse," he said, grinning.

Both of them rose from their chairs and shook hands hard, deeply looking into each other eyes.

The merchant turned and started to leave when he raised his finger, as if he remembered something, "Again, I almost forgot something to tell you, my friend," he turned his head, his monocle again shined in the muted hall, making it unable to read his eyes.

His voice was serious "Do not let any of the Empire's ship dock into your harbor, unless you want this village to cease to exist. They can be much worse than a whole nest of angry dragons… and what they are searching for…just pray you do not have it," he turned and said again in his normal voice, "It is time for me I guess to go, take care my friend!"

He disappeared behind the leather curtain, and the sound of the door followed.

Stoick sat back on his chair and thought about many things. He had to make the village ready for what was coming, not only for his Vikings, but also for his son…

If Hiccup was going to survive to become the next chieftain, he needed to learn how to do it.

Stoick grabbed his helmet and put it on his head, marching to the exit.

He had made his decision.

* * *

AN: Confused? Good. What is Braedan's story? The time to tell it will come later. I do not want to confuse the reader even more.


	8. Wounded Warrior

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.

* * *

Later this evening.

Shade whimpered quietly. He felt the blood pulsating in his temples, his head ached tremendously with every heartbeat, feeling like it was about to explode. The part of his skull which had hit the ground when falling from the precipice hurt as well, but with the radiating kind of pain for a change. The swollen skin made him unable to open his left eye fully, and all he managed was to keep it half-open.

There were also uncountable places that hurt around his wings and sides because of the violent rolling on the ground. Since he found himself trapped in his new prison, he had tried to rest as much as possible before attempting an escape. There were also a few other pain sources on his body. On his right chest area, there were two of them, each different from the other. One was located near his breastbone, a little to the right. The pain was getting worse with every breath. He had had enough bones broken and cracked during his life not to recognize another one. It was the place where he had hit the first tree when falling. His bones were extremely strong and had a partial ability to bend, helping to absorb the impacts, but he never had one as bad as this one.

From the amount of pain appearing when he tried to move, he knew and guessed a few things. He knew that his sternum was broken. It was not a problem; he had it broken many times before from different reasons. It should heal within a couple of sunrises.

He also knew how many of his ribs were damaged. It was hard to miss when from four areas on your chest, every movement made you want to roar from pain. He had to guess if they were broken, cracked or just the worst bruise he had ever had in his life. He wasn't good at deluding himself, so he rejected the idea of the bruise, but he hoped the bones were just cracked.

To reduce the pain he lay on his left side, trying to breathe as shallowly as he could.

If pain is a good sign that you are alive, the next injury was making him feel even more joyful about living right now. It was more to the right of his damaged ribs. It started at his upper chest area, and ended lower, at the height of his, now broken, sternum. The pain felt like his skin was on fire. It was a souvenir from making an impact crater in the landscape whilst landing. "Suicide-crash" was a better term for it in Shade's mind. He was just glad that he could still breathe, more or less.

If he had met any rock on his way down, he would have died instantly, leaving only a large, ugly, scaly mess on the aforementioned boulder. Merely losing some scales and skin to stop this kind of fall was a small price to pay.

The biggest problem with this was that there were a few more knick-knacks that Nature was so kind to ply him with, when the soil had been scrubbed into his chest during his sliding landing. Small rocks, leaves and everything in between had entered the wound, some just puncturing the raw skin, some getting deeper into the small area of the flayed wound that had exposed the muscles beneath.

He felt his body heating up; he had to breathe through his mouth for a longer time now to cool it down, and the occasional shivering shook his body. He was getting feverish; the temperature was already high above the norm. He tried to monitor his heartbeat and breathing rate, as well, to get more information about his condition. It increased over time, and that was a bad sign. If, after an accident your heart was beating faster and you needed to breathe more, instead of slowing down, it meant that the body was fighting with something and required more air and blood. This condition was not only from the shock after the fall, but also because of the developing infection in his wounds. He had a very keen sense of smell and he could very well smell the stench of it.

Shade's knowledge about dragon anatomy and how to heal himself was quite extensive. One of his _Lifdagarkennarar_ had taught him a lot about it. Even if his methods of teaching were quite... unorthodox, they were effective.

Shade didn't want to waste his time with memories now; he needed to act.

After dropping into this place, he had only managed to crawl behind a tree and lay down, immediately falling asleep from exhaustion, stress, fear and anything that you could and couldn't expect after falling from the sky and, making a very fast and unpleasant sightseeing tour through the forest.

Shade opened his eyes with difficulty, one of them only half-opened, cursing mentally with every movement his body made. He started heading towards the small pond sluggishly, with a very strong limp on his right front leg that was reddened with dried blood. It was dark then, but that was not a problem for him; the moon was shining through the jagged clouds, giving the water in front of him a ghastly glow. He looked, this time more carefully, around the place he was in.

It looked like a round pit with very steep and smooth-looking stone walls. On the lip, trees grew; from some of them, roots wrung over the edge and hung lower, some swung loosely like corpse's limbs. One tree's roots created something like a wooden cave; this was the place that Shade had used yesterday as a shelter.

The pit was quite large, around twenty jumps long (without running) and ten body lengths high. There were quite a few trees inside, one especially large, predominating every other one in the vicinity. Its top was at the level of the woods growing outside the cavity. Boulders and assorted rock formations were scattered inside.

A small lake was placed on one side; it took a little less than half of the space, with a shoreline shaped in a half circle. He heard the subtle splashing of the water that provided the pond with water, sweet water. While flying he had seen this place, but he never would have had guessed that there would be such a source of drinkable water so close to the ocean.

After some gasps, groans, and whimpers he managed to get to the water line, and almost falling forward, he quaffed.

Having satisfied the first thirst, he waited for the water to stop waving, and then leaned out with his right paw as much outstretched as his sore body allowed. He had to see the chest wound to decide what to do with it.

Using the water to reflect his image, he looked at the damage. The water was still waving slightly; he could only see the black skin and a few red points going through the wound, but as the surface became tranquil, he could notice more details.

All the scales had been ripped off, and through the skin, four lacerations could be seen. The deepest one was placed at the bottom of his chest. He sighed, seeing how deeply covered in dirt it was. Instead of raw wounds that started healing, they were still a deep red colour and emanated a sweet odour of decomposition.

Shade entered the water, going deep enough to his shoulder level, trying to wash his wounds. Moon rays penetrated the dark surface, showing the sandy bottom sharply descending, vanishing in the darkness.

He enjoyed the coolness of the water and felt the stinging pain settle down a bit. He stopped moving and looked down at his muzzle's reflection. He looked into his own green eyes shining in the dark. He saw an extreme tiredness, pain and they looked… sad for him.

He also saw something that he thought did not apply to him. A gaze full of defeat, powerlessness, and bitter acceptance that…

"You won't be able to fly ever again_…,"_ a whisper like a gentle breath of wind was heard, seeming to come from far away. Shade did not even look around, that voice was much too familiar to him.

There was one more wound on his body that he did not want to think about. His consciousness tried to deny the pain at the end of his tail, pulsating synchronously with his heartbeat. It was like a persistently nipping susurration at the back of his head, telling him with every thump his heart made…,"I'm here".

He did not want to look at it, even if just to examine and medicate it. His tail was lying still on the shore ground behind him; he could feel that there was something wrong with the left tail fin. He tried to extend both his tail fins. He felt and heard his right working, scratching the ground. He tried the left repeatedly, but still was not able to feel it.

His jaws clenched in a panic that he had kept at bay until now. He felt an urge to look at it and to confront the truth, even though deep inside he already knew it.

With a nightmarish shiver running through his spine, he turned his head to the left and saw his hind leg, partially submerged in the water. Hesitantly, he lifted his tail top so he could see it. The moon emerged from beneath the clouds and shined on it. There, a small part of skin dangled from where his tail fin should be; that was the only thing that was left of it, dried blood and dented scales glistening in the much-too-revealing light. He looked at it and felt like he was falling into the bottomless pit, barely registering that he had started to breathe deeply and quickly through his mouth.

_It can't be happening; it is just a bad dream. Just another nightmare, I'll wake up in a moment and see that it is not real. Just another nightmare… it is just another nightmare…, _Shade thought, not caring how infantile or stupid it was to think that.

He hoped, craved that it was just another of the nightmares he so often had. That it was just another prank his broken mind played with him. He bent his tail more and looked at the empty space where his fin should have been.

"You're a cripple now," the voice sounded right near Shade's ear, sounding clearer this time.

Shade stopped, his muzzle opened, still heaving deeply. He averted his head, unable to wipe the image he just saw from his memory. He looked at the water. All he saw was his reflection, distorted by the waves caused by his body movements. The water stilled, and he looked down, lowering his head just above the surface. He saw his reflection again, disturbed only by small ripples created by his exhaled air.

Almost undisturbed eerie silence cloaked the world, only the rhythmical breathing of the dragon cut through the stillness.

"You have nothing left now," the reflection said.

Shade's heart started to hurt, like it was being crushed. His breath started to become more irregular.

"No…," he said to his reflection, trying to put strength into these words, but only a hoarse sound emerged from his muzzle.

"First it was your family," the reflection continued, its voice getting stronger.

"No…," Shade breathed out, feeling the strength ebbing his body.

"Next were your sister and brother," his image said, more and more distorted in the water by his deepening breathing.

"No…" the black dragon barely spoke, feeling his heart ache more and more with every passing moment, overshadowing all sense and reason.

"Then you started killing yourself; bit by bit, you were disappearing until you'd created a Shade, the monster others wanted you to be- and that you yourself wanted to be." His reflection continued its merciless monologue. There was no malice in the reflection's voice, its voice was cold and blood chilling, but still that voice belonged to Shade.

"Stop it," The dragon whimpered, he couldn't run away from this, his body did not answer to him.

"If you w a monster, you would not have to feel pain, would not have to realize anymore that it was _your _fault your family and kin were killed in front of you. That, _because of you_, your sister died and your brother was exiled," his mirror image said, getting louder and louder while Shade felt his strength and resolve fade away.

He could not even utter his disagreement with these words, feeling his whole body shake, his legs barely supporting his own weight. His breathing quickened, heart slamming against his ribs. He tried to think clearly, not wanting to lose control over himself, putting his entire mind into this.

_I'm… hyperventilating and feverish… this is just a hallucination…I need to calm down or I'll lose consciousness,_ he thought, closing his eyes, trying with all his might to calm his body before it was too late.

"How will you fulfill your revenge now, you wingless little insect?" Shade's eyes snapped open, this voice was mocking and full of cold hate. Having almost no control left over his body, he saw his reflection's eyes emit an unnaturally bright glow, the image twisting and changing into the giant greyish eye of IT.

"Now you can't even lift your useless body from the ground! You failed! All what you were doing in your life meant nothing! The thing you feared the most is a reality now. _You really have nothing now, nothing_!" IT roared loudly.

Shade's fast breathing continued, he could not control his body any longer. He felt his eyes clouding with mist. His legs gave out, and he collapsed into the water surface, head first. The water closed after him, and his body started to sink deeper and deeper into the depths. There was no sound there, no movement. He could only feel the coldness surrounding him, penetrating his body, relieving him from pain and worry. Was the light shining less and less or was he just slowly closing his eyes?

He did not care, nothing mattered anymore. He wanted to rest, just sleep and never wake up.

The darkness swallowed him up completely. He welcomed it joyfully. There was no feeling or thought, only silence. He was becoming one with the lightless and cold world around him. He was so tired… his mind started to drift away.

How long had he been in such a state? -he could not tell. After all, time didn't exist anymore.

He felt warmness on his side now and a soft, comfortable feeling of sand beneath him. He smelled a salty breeze, and heard a gentle sound of waves ending their journey on the shore. He lay, curled; he felt like somebody was sleeping next to him. It was a perception rather than a physical feeling, but the sensation started to warm up his body. He felt secure and safe here; he did not want to open his eyes, just to lie like this forever.

He felt his skin gently touched, warmth radiating from it. It used to be a familiar sensation. Was it how his mother used to cuddle him, or his sister after his mother was gone?

Overwhelmed by the desire to see who was there, he opened his eyes and looked behind, but he saw nobody there. The warmth he had felt was just from the sun, though he wasn't disappointed; feeling the touch of his family, even if it was just a memory, was something he treasured deeply.

He now was in the place where he had spent his childhood. His mind always took him there whenever he needed a place he could escape. The ocean was deep blue in colour. Even though he heard the waves moving and the wind blowing, the image in front of him was staying still, waves that would never finish their journey, forever sealed in one moment, motionless.

Time had stopped in this place long ago. Uncountable stone pillars were sticking out from the water in the distance, filling the horizon. The grey sand, mixed with volcanic ash, always smelled of sulphur. There was a small rocky steep leading to the mountainside and there, in a grey rock, was a large entrance to the cave his family used to occupy.

He stood up, not feeling any pain, calm and peaceful.

There, in the sand in front of him, were paw prints of many dragons. He recognized his own, together with his younger brother's, a small hole was in the sand where he had tackled him, playing. He could almost hear the sounds of the sand rustling beneath them as they rolled, both rumbling playfully. There were larger prints next to it where his sister had caught him in her mouth by the skin on his neck, separating them and telling him not to beat up his weaker brother. He remembered how he looked with superiority in his brother's direction, proudly puffing his scrawny chest. His sibling didn't like being called the "weaker" one… or his older brother's dominant behavior.

That earned Shade a small blow of fire from his brother, one that he couldn't control properly, it sounded more like a sneeze than anything else.

Whatever that "attack" was, it did hurt him. He jumped, and both of them started to roll in the sand, trying to bite and claw one another as much as possible. With their little claws and dull teeth it wasn't really dangerous. Shade really missed those fights.

Both of them received a solid slap in the head from their sister's tail for that. At least _he_ did; his brother just got a gentle tap, in Shade's opinion. His brother always apologized to their sister, never to him, and his little brother started to try to climb on her, trying to play more.

He looked at it all crossly, lying on the sand, feeling his head hurt. He never mentioned it, but he was jealous as a cub of how differently he and his brother were treated by his sister. He now understood that it was simply because he was older and needed to be more responsible and mature, since their parents were gone... everybody was.

He started walking on the beach, his body moving soundlessly, not leaving any prints in the sand, listening to the waves. Even though the ocean's water was looking very inviting, he never swam there. He felt he should not, that behind this beautiful and hypnotizing azure water, something really bad was hiding.

This entire place was first created when he was young, just starting his travel around the world, carrying out his revenge. Every young pup was taught how to control his or her mind. It could be done on many levels, and the mastery of it could open before you unlimited possibilities. This is what his _Lifdagarkennararis_ used to tell him.

There were three levels of mastery: mild, advanced, and full. Controlling your heartbeat was only a mild one. Shade's best skill, the _Daleg Letheri_, was on an advanced level. He knew a few more skills that were possible, thanks to his mind control abilities, but there was nothing he knew from the highest level.

The Master's level, as it was rumored, could give you a total conscious control over every function of your body, raise up your strength and speed to limits you would never believe, sharpen your senses and mind, make you smarter, heal you ten times faster than normal and much more.

Shade's mind skills for now included: controlling his heartbeat and partially controlling his bleeding process, increasing his memory for details, hearing and seeing a little better than average, slightly increasing his healing rate, changing his body temperature marginally and blocking some pain.

Exercises consisted mostly of breathing practice, focusing, and a lot of standing or sitting still. It was hardly expected that the group of young pups would practice it thoroughly. Most of them, including him, preferred to test out their fire, claw, fang, poison or quill or all included, on their nearest neighbour.

Shade only understood the importance of it when he really needed it; however, it was too late then since there was nobody left to teach him anymore.

Most battle skills were advanced ones. Before all the seniors had died, he had started practicing gathering energy inside his body to make him strike harder, jump higher, run faster, or have stronger fire. It was believed that, if given enough concentration and practice, you could raise energy in any point of your body and release it on command.

Without his teachers, he tried to master these skills on his own, with poor results. He achieved the Battle Seer ability, but it was an immature skill still; he could only use it for brief periods of time, and it required enormous concentration. A Master could have used it all the time without feeling tired or in need of concentration.

The dream land he was in was called, the _Lening Frondrak_, the Land of Peace. It looked differently for everyone and could change with time. It was usually the place to which you felt most connected, for various reasons. It could be the place where you grew up, or the place where you had once caught the tastiest fish of your life, or some place you saw briefly while flying, but it just happened to be something important for your mind to remember.

Understanding it was sometimes simply impossible. Shade's was quite simple, the place where he felt most secure and peaceful. But the main reason you were trained to visualize it wasn't for you to enjoy the sunny day while it was raining, but for you to communicate with yourself. As weird as it sounded, it worked.

The last thing he remembered was losing consciousness. His mind brought him here, so there was a reason for it. At first, he didn't want to find out what was it. Whatever his crazy brain wanted to show him, it could wait.

He realized that even though he had all his limbs here and did not feel pain, he was in reality crippled and injured. He had lost his ability to fly, and with it, his purpose in life. He thought about these things calmly, he did not need to worry about the "feelings" he felt outside this world, here he was just an observer.

He suddenly wanted to run; wind started whistling in his ears. He felt the air on his eyes and the steady work of his muscles. He ran faster and faster on a sea shore until the world changed into a blur. He jumped upwards and started to fly. The scenery rapidly changed.

He was now above the human settlements; he did not see many details, and it was more like a picture show.

Before he could do anything, he was caught in a human binding weapon and started his fall. Screeching, pain in the tail, pain in the chest, breaking sound of a tree, feeling of body violently rolled on the ground, pain on the side, pain of the torn skin… pain in the head and darkness.

A slight pressure on his left front paw shoulder woke him up.

He was not an observer anymore; he was experiencing this past memory repeat itself now.

He found himself now lying on his right side, feeling his right wing numb from all that time it spent beneath him, squeezed in a painful position forced by the binding-net weapon entrapping him.

It was most of what he managed to register when he saw a small human cub crawl on the ground and hide behind the rock. Shade tried to free himself, but the human's net- weapon was stronger. All Shade managed was to make it rub his skin even more.

Now he started to feel shocked, lost, and terrified. Pain erupted from his chest as he tried to move, blinding him for a second. He whimpered loudly. He tried to move again, but the pain just got worse.

Whimpering again, he stopped stirring and just lay still, breathing deeply through his nose. He eyed the human carefully as it stopped using the rock as a cover and slowly approached him.

It did not escape Shade's attention that the human cub was holding a shining weapon in its hand. From his preceding human observations, Shade had learned that they used some kind of hand extension made from metal. These weapons varied in shape and size, and the human in front of him had the smallest one he had ever seen. However, it also looked very sharp and if Shade had learned something about those bipeds, it was to never underestimate them. His eye did not leave the weapon from his sight for the slightest moment.

The wind brought him the smell of the human. He had been too frightened to notice it at the time, but now, while the memory of the situation played out again in his mind, he could perceive more of what he had subconsciously felt then.

The human's smell was… nice. He perceived now that it was a young male pup, and that he smelled of leathers, metal and coal, salted water, wood and human sweat.

The scent made the Shade feel calmer. It was bizarre and something he absolutely never would have expected in such a situation-nobody would. Shade thought the human's smell was an aroma of melancholy, fear, pain and loss, but it was also one of kindness and absolute gentleness, like a warm feeling of somebody near you, it was so… familiar.

He felt warmness inside, spreading through his body; his heart started beating loudly, without the constant pain he had felt for so long. Was it from fear or from excitement? Why had he started getting this calm feeling suddenly?

He looked away from the weapon the child-man held, something Shade had never done before- you never let an enemy's weapon out from your sight. Instead, he started looking up.

He saw small scuffs on the cub's hands and old burn scars marking the fingers, tightly gripped on the metal, his hands trembling.

He saw every wrinkle on the human's green covering, all of it marred by dust, dirt and leaves. There was an ugly scar on his neck, partially hidden by the cloth, and a fast pulsation from the arteries just beneath the skin. Shade could hear the beating of the human's heart, so similar to his own, fast but strong. Then he heard the sound of the cub's lungs working; was it his imagination, or was there something wrong with them?

Shade had just barely noticed the human's brown hair with red highlights when he felt himself pulled into the eyes of the young man in front of him. Now he could only see these green eyes boring into his own.

Surprisingly, Shade did not see in them the things he had expected: hatred, anger, disgust. There were no negative emotions towards him. There was no victorious laugh, no sudden movement to kill him. The boy just had an increasingly confused and lost look, the smell of fear dominating all others.

Shade was not paying attention when the human said something in his tongue, grabbing his weapon in both hands. Shade was still looking into these small green eyes. The human spoke again. Even though Shade did not understand a word, he could hear the uncertainty, nervousness, fear, and rising anger. Shade felt that the cub was angry at himself, but why? The pup had him at his mercy already.

Something, deep inside was telling him that this human would not kill him. The human, as if replying to this feeling, shouted something forcefully.

That broke the spell and Shade started to look at the weapon again. All thoughts were shovelled aside; the feeling of fear predominated everything. The shining piece of metal was hovering in the air, lethal and dangerous, waiting to pass the judgment. Humans were humans after all, and they would never miss an opportunity to kill his kind, especially in a situation like that.

Shade closed his eyes and waited for the final blow. In his mind he also saw the hesitation in the boy's hands, smelled the self-hatred in the blood from the boy's bitten lip, sensed sadness and disappointment in the human's closed eyes. The young man's whole body was fighting a long lost war; the fragile human just didn't realize it yet. Shade hoped that the human would notice this feeling.

This is where Shade's journey would end; he would die from the hand of this small human male. He wanted to tell himself that he had no regrets left, that he had led a good and happy life so he could now die with peace and dignity. In reality, he had more regrets than he could count, and he had not done a decent thing in his life. As much confused as he was with his own feelings, he knew that his life was not a joyous one. A small part of him was glad that it was going to end already; no more running away, no more nights and days full of solitude, no more of this feeling like his heart had been torn out from his chest, no more of this inner struggle inside his head, fighting with his own emotions and desires.

He had failed himself, his kin, his brother and sister. It was only natural that he should die now. Still, he felt an overwhelming guilt and sadness.

_I'm sorry_, that was all he thought and then he waited, trying to be as still as possible. He would not whimper or struggle; the human would not get any more satisfaction from killing him. He wanted to look proudly into the human's eyes, but he was afraid he would start feeling weird again, as though intoxicated or hypnotized by the young man's gaze. That gaze that almost seemed like another weapon this little human had at his disposal.

As insignificant as the boy looked, he was the one that had brought him down from the sky and now was here to claim his prize. The weapon binding him had the same smell as the human. Shade could expect anything from the one that had hunted him down, including mind control. He was getting himself ready for the blade to pass through the skin.

Nevertheless, why was the hatchling taking so long? Would the human just stand there, tormenting him with uncertainty or…. let him free?

He felt one of his bindings loosen as it was cut through. He looked at the place where the human should have been standing, but he was not there. His left eye turned to the back as much as possible, catching only a glimpse of the boy's hair, but the sound of the weapon cutting through something was unmistakably telling him what was going on. The cub was freeing him, but why? To make him feel hopeful and then strike? Was it some kind of twisted game? Torture?

The second binding got cut.

Why was he doing it? The human had nothing to gain from this act. Shade felt shocked, confused, and completely lost. Millions of thoughts ran through his head, making him unable to comprehend what was happening. This action had completely caught him off guard. The humans do not let his kind free; they kill quickly and move on to the next target.

Finally, knowing that he did not have much time left to think, Shade decided to kill the human as soon as- and if- he was free…. It was a safer option.

As soon as the third binding was severed, Shade jumped to his feet. Everything after that happened automatically. His right paw swept the ground, hitting the human right beneath the knee, making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. Before Shade's attacking paw was even on the ground, his left one raised and hit the boy in the middle of the chest, casting him back, rolling. All Shade's movements were sloppy and slow, thanks to the whole night being tangled.

Before the boy's back even hit the boulder, Shade bent his hindquarters and jumped forward with his right paw outstretched, aiming for the neck. The claws bore into the rock. Shade smelled a clear scent of blood. He saw his two claws land on each side of the human's neck, capturing him.

The human's weapon fell away from his grasp.

W_hy is he still alive_?, Shade thought, not understanding his actions. Why had his body even decided on this attack sequence? It was much too elaborate, and completely unnecessary.

He wanted to claw the cub's head off, a very definite way to end somebody's life. Shade continually trusted his instincts when attacking; they had never failed him... until now.

The initial strike that made the human lose his steadiness had been done by the soft part of his paw. He thought he would at least cut the human's leg off. The following strike, performed even more badly than the first one was just a gentle pat in Shade's judgment. It was supposed to tear through the human's chest, not to do ...this.

Even if he could explain the first two strikes, he could not find any reasonable explanation for the last one. It was meant to kill, nothing else. Yet, the human was pretty much alive, and Shade was pretty much pissed off.

The boy, who had his eyes closed, opened them slowly, and looked into his. Shade looked back with all the anger he could, trying to mask the rising confusion inside his head. The human looked surprised, but there was still no hate in his eyes or movements, no anger… it was unreal. The hatchling tried to push away Shade's leg, using his tiny hands. A futile attempt, Shade didn't feel any strength in it.

_He is…weak. He did not defend or attack. He didn't use his weapon. He just let me free and now he wants to get himself killed? ...No, this is ridiculous… I need to kill him and get away from here as soon as possible,_ Shade decided.

He tried to move his body to end the life of the boy now lying still and just looking into his eyes with fear and… acceptance.

Shade attempted to move his claws to end his life. He just… couldn't. His body was not responding, as though blocked by something. His anger rose even more. Since when was he so knowledgeable about what humans felt? He was uncertain about his own "feelings", and now suddenly he could actually identify the feelings of the human that was supposed to be dead by now?

For inexplicable reasons, the peace, and calmness that the human's scent and eyes were bringing had started to irritate and scare him. He was getting terrified. He had a human in his claws, defenceless, immobilized and weak, a human he was ready to kill at any moment.

And he, who survived so many life threatening situations, was _afraid_ of this tiny human? It was insane, but it was happening, and it was happening right now. Shade, for the first time in his life, did not know what to do. He had absolutely no idea, whatsoever. There were only these scared and sad green eyes of the human looking up at him.

Not able to stand this look any longer he lifted his head and opened his mouth, trying to bite or charge his Aeldengandari.

He couldn't concentrate; the fire bolt that could've been released in the blink of an eye just didn't appear. He tensed his neck muscles, trying to make his head go down, but again, his body did not listen to him. Whenever he wanted to kill this human, his body was refusing to work. Why? He was even more scared of the boy now. The human was doing this to him; _his_ green mesmerizing eyes, his pleasant scent.

He had to get out of here, just escape this spell. As soon as he stopped thinking of killing the human, his body started to respond to him again. Shade lowered his head and roared into the boy's face as loudly as he could, with all the frustration, pain, and perplexity he felt. Right after that, he twisted back and kicked the rock on which the human's head rested. The rock's upper part was blown apart. He wanted to give a clear signal to the hatchling not to follow him.

He sprang and tried to fly away, but he could not control his flight path. There was something wrong with him. He hit a few trees and rocks in his path. Being close to the pit, he tried to glide across it, but instead he dropped down into it like a rock, hitting the soil hard. Pain blinded him, almost made him faint. He was only able to crawl to the nearest safe looking place and fall asleep instantly.

A cold darkness surrounded him again. He was cocooned in it, feeling secure again. The memories and feelings he had experienced died slowly. He felt his mind wake up, his senses start to work again. The pain was the first to be felt, it always was. He opened his eyes slowly. For a moment, he did not know where he was. A small air bubble detached from his nose and started to travel up, to the surface.

_That's right, you found yourself crippled for life, lost your consciousness after conversing with your reflection, and then collapsed into the water, had a very wild, and most detailed report about a certain and recent moment of your life, and you're back with more questions than _answers.

Good _news is that you're now at the bottom of the pond, enjoying the view_, Shade thought cynically.

Another air bubble began its ascent.

_Thanks for stating the obvious,_ he thanked himself. He might not have had his answers, but he felt somewhat refreshed. His mind worked clearly again, determined and focused. He was lying on his back, facing the water exterior. His eyes were functioning under water as well as on land. The brightness from the moon was going through the surface; its rays dispersed and changed into beams of white light. It looked like a tunnel made from the pale glow, leading somewhere. A few small fish profiles arose from the blackness, and they circled through the light slowly, disrupting it.

Shade was aware that he would have to reach to the surface soon. His body was slowly demanding air.

He moved from the flaxen bottom with one powerful thrust of his tail and hindquarters, and shot up towards the light. The fish scattered instantly in all directions. Shade moved through the water, seeing the light play on his muzzle skin. The pain in his tail did not hurt as much as before.

He broke through the lighting reflection of the moon on the water and deeply breathed in the cool night air.

Approaching the shore and sensing the ground beneath his legs, he stopped swimming and started marching, cutting through the shallow water, careful not to move his right front side too much. Water dripped and dribbled down from his body.

He looked around for things he required to clean the wound on his chest. He did not need much, just a clean looking rock with a proper spherical shape and a lot of water. Soon he found one, partially submerged in the water with a smooth, white surface.

He was not going to give up, he wanted to survive and fulfil his goal. Despairing and mourning over a lost ability to fly was not an option anymore. Shade felt something that he had not felt for a very long time: hope. He was in a pit, badly injured, would never be able to fly again, and yet he still felt that it all would work out somehow. This irrational, energizing, inexplicable feeling filled his whole body.

He was going to use this rock to scrub out pollutants from the wound. There were no pain killing or antiseptic herbs inside the pit, no leaves or mushroom to dress up a wound after the treatment was applied. He had to manage without them. Fortunately for him, he could use resin from a nearby cedar.

Shade started drawing lines in a rock with his claw, shaping small dimples in it. It had to be precise; he did not want to risk damaging the muscles more than they already were. After finishing, he closed his eyes and started concentrating, breathing calmly. Soon, the pain receded, leaving only a feeling of numbness. He was not able to use this skill for a prolonged length of time. He had to hurry.

Shade opened his eyes and let his saliva drip on the rock. He had learned that small organisms inside wounds caused infections, and that dragon's saliva is an extremely good weapon against them.

Shade had often wondered from where this knowledge had originated, but after receiving a few good wing slaps from his _Lifdagarkennarar_, he stopped asking. Soon it turned out that his mentor did not know neither, it was just an old wisdom passed from generation to generation. For him, it was more like a fairy-tale, but the main point was that it worked, and it worked very well. He soon found out that every wound treated with dragon saliva healed in a few sun cycles.

Using the lake water as a mirror, he started gently scrubbing the lacerated part of his chest against the rock. Even with a partial pain block, he still felt the pressure from the boulder on his wounds. The blood started to flow from the rock into the water, immediately making the area around the boulder scarlet. Shade stopped and splashed his "scrubbing brush" with water, using his left paw and clawing out all the dead tissue, dirt and small rocks from the cavities.

He repeated the process three times; after the last one, he felt like his whole chest area was on fire, burning from pain.

It would only intensify through the day, but it was worth it. Correctly treated, this wound would heal in few sun cycles; the scales would take a little longer to grow back.

He washed the wound in the water one last time and covered it in saliva from the rock. He walked, then, to the old looking cedar and scratched the bark deeply, not forgetting to also create a path for the resin to run down. Very soon, gold drops started to fall from the bark wound.

Shade started collecting it on its extended left front paw. It would take some time to gather enough to cover a small part of the abrasion. Curling his tail, he now looked closely at the gash. He started licking the wound and biting off the dead skin and tissue. After it was clean, he positioned it just beneath the bark incision, covering it with falling resin.

A longer time passed, and Shade managed to cover his chest wound with resin, and to lubricate the areas that included his broken sternum and cracked ribs. It was long and sloppy work because of the slow speed with which the resin was dripping out and the limited manoeuvrability of Shade's paw.

Finally done, he limped to his cave under the roots of a giant tree. Laying down carefully on his back, he leant his tail against one of the overhanging sticks of wood. His wound "dressing" was still flexible and sticky. He did not want to risk contaminating it.

Shade looked at his tail for a moment, trying not to think how pathetic it looked. He averted his gaze, and looked at the rocky walls of the pit. When he woke up tomorrow, he would try to get out from here and finish his revenge, or die trying.

Closing his eyes, the last thing he saw before falling asleep were the sad, green eyes of a human.

He slept well that night, without any nightmares.

* * *

AN: It was very serious, now it's time for something more lighthearted.

From the Deleted OCs Diary for "The Truth is a Shard of Ice".

Maeria Seuvis- She is 16 years old and is living on the outskirts of Berk's Village. Why outskirts? Her parents died in a very tragic vicious FLUFFy rabbit attack when she was young. She became an outcast and is not accepted by the community, just like other particular character (nobody knows who I am talking about of course...). She is also kind, gentle, intelligent, super duper pretty. She is mature, but also has unpredictable mood swings (do I smell a contradiction here?) but of course nobody notices it in the village besides the same particular character. She has no special skills and needs to be protected from basically everything. On top of that she has green eyes and red hair (OMG almost like, AGAIN, particular character from the village! What a coincidence!) and is the shortest girl on the island. Luckily she had found an _injured female _Unicorn-dragon. She healed it and tamed it. They have an amazing bond. Her name is Sparkarella. Her dragon is pink, with a biggie wings and biggie horn with a pink cord on it. Her dragon understands humans (so dragons are born with the ability to understand Norse or something?). Toothless of course fell in love with the _female_ Night-Fury-Unicorn-dragon. Maeria has a crush on a certain person in the village (you can't guess who is it again, can you?) and that person defended her when they were kids. That certain person had his heart broken by a certain-to-be-certain girlfriend because she was so bad for him. Luckily, Marae was there to comfort him, and he discovered his true love and destiny.

Character was rejected by me because it was much too original and fresh.


	9. Revelations

Disclaimer: Same as the previous one.

AN: Thank you for the reviews. If I haven't answered somebody please let me know. I am sorry for the anonymous reviewers, I do not want to answer you publicly.

To **shugokage:** Please enable private messaging in your account settings so I am able to answer your message.

Thanks again to everybody that decided to stay and read. Your very average storyteller.

* * *

The Next morning

It was soon after dawn and Berk was already bursting with life. People were walking back and forth to tend to their duties. The working day for everybody here began with the sunrise.

Hiccup was a proud exception to this rule, but today he just couldn't sleep. Most of the night he had spent tossing on his bed, thinking about the things that had happened yesterday, which happened to be quite a lot. To the collection of the "it just couldn't happen to Hiccup" events was added the yesterday talk with his father, who to his utter surprise, agreed for him to join the Dragon Training. Hiccup, normally would have jumped up to the ceiling rafters from happiness after hearing such news, but after having a rather pleasant meeting with a dragon, his world had made a 180 degree turn. For the boy, all meetings that involved minimal pain, fear and no more than one loud yell were the pleasant ones.

Before he had gone home and run into his father for the mostly one-sided discussion, Hiccup had barely managed to go to his workshop for a change of clothes and to try to wash himself a little in a nearby barrel full of water, attempting not to draw too much suspicion with his unusually bedraggled appearance.

Now, as he lay looking at the ceiling with an exhausted gaze, he wondered if he should even get up from bed and go and attend this so-called "training".

He punched the pillow he had been sleeping on with sudden frustration. Whenever it came to dealing with his father, he was always on the losing side. It could've been due to his father's years of experience as a leader that he always had the last word and was never refused by anyone. Stoick could be questioned, reasoned with, insulted (though quietly and behind his back), but he was never refused.

Hiccup's 'discussions' with his father always looked the same. There were always a lot of _buts_ and sarcastic comments, but the outcome was always the same. Hiccup, as always, wound up agreeing.

The boy slammed his fist into the pillow again, sending a few goose feathers flying, cursing his submissiveness. The worse part of this was that he just couldn't hate his father for this decision. After all, his Dad had just fulfilled his greatest wish, had wanted to be nice to him and show his caring side, even if that included a most likely lethal combat with fire-breathing reptiles. Hiccup couldn't help to feel a bit moved by his father's action. He hadn't even expected that his father listened to what he was saying to him. On the other hand, he only had mentioned a few hundred times that he wanted to join the Dragon Training. Maybe that's why Stoick remembered it. Of all the things that just _had_ to happen after he met a Night Fury and just wanted to forget this incident and pursue a career as a bread-making Viking (or any other as-far-away-as-possible-from-the-dragons calling), his father had enrolled him in Dragon Training!

Coincidences like that just confirmed his ongoing theory that he was somehow cursed. He suspected that, since he now was aware he could not hurt a dragon, it might slightly decrease his chances of surviving the training. He now knew he hated violence and aggression, and he would have to force himself to be somebody he really wasn't… again.

Seeing the brightening glow slip between the wooden shutters covering his window, he punched his pillow one last time for good measure and sat upright. He felt the cool of the wood beneath his bare feet. His head and body still ached from the day before. His mind was numb and worked slowly due to the lack of sleep, but overall he didn't feel so bad. He still was wearing yesterday's clothes, just without boots.

He walked to his desk and grabbed a mug made from unornamented white clay, the residue from the amount of herbal tea that was drunk from it making it brown inside. This time there was nothing different, just last night's left over herbal tea with some apple pieces in it. In the wintertime, it was usually laced with honey or goat's milk.

Absent-mindedly, he drank the cold remains of his beverage and opened the window. The sun hit his eyes, making him almost fully close them. Soon, the sounds of birds chirping in the nearby woods and people shouting greetings joined the commotion.

It really was a beautiful morning, and Hiccup hated that it was so lovely. He wished it would rain with hail and thunder, reflecting how he felt inside. It was his hope, as well, that such weather would postpone the Dragon Training. The sunny day was another evil plot of the universe against him.

He looked at his desk. There was a large pile of finished and unfinished drafts, drawings and who knew what else. He dug deeper and took out one of the drawings that pictured him standing on a large bloody red dragon with teeth as large as he was. He was holding a giant sword in his hand, lifted high, with a victorious smile on his face. His whole body seemed to emanate a glow of triumph, outshining everything and everybody else. He had drawn it long ago, hoping this would be how his future would look. He had liked to look at it sometimes to remind him of his mission and goals: killing a dragon, making his father proud and the villagers fall on their knees, begging for forgiveness that they had treated him like rubbish for all these years. He used to go back to these fantasies quite often.

Suddenly, he felt strong repugnance towards this drawing. He threw it on the pile again, feeling disgusted how he could've drawn this in the first place. Yesterday, he was so excited about the dragon raid and the possibility of killing a beast. Now, he only wanted to be as far away as possible from all of it.

He swiped everything from the desk to the floor, feeling a rushing anger. With a small thud, the vellum-leather pages hit the floor. A few pencils rolled, stopping after the few clicks their movement made. One of the drawings drifted down longer than the others, floating closer to Hiccup and landing in front of his feet.

He looked at it and his choler vanished.

It was one of the first drawings of his mother done shortly after her death. He had drawn it during his recovery from the burns, since he had spent many weeks in his room, unable to go out. Actually, he had not wanted to leave the room, anyway.

The proportions were totally off balance; on the face there were only clumsily-drawn green eyes and a small nose. Where the mouth should've been, there was only a wide grey strip. It was the last detail he never was able to draw the way he wanted. Even when he was older, all his endeavours to draw his mother's smile were futile. He was not satisfied with any of them.

Placing the drawing on his desk, he grabbed one of the pencils scattered on the floor and placed it on the drawing's face, just where the mouth should be. He stood in this position like a monument for a moment. His hand started trembling slightly, and he bit his lip in concentration. Unable to do it, he laid the pencil down on the drawing delicately with a sad expression.

He couldn't remember his mother's smile.

He couldn't count the times he had wanted to finish this; even though it looked so childishly drawn, it was a very special and important picture for him. Placing a finger on the drawn brown hair he swiped gently through the leather paper, as if trying to stroke it.

A small clunking sound made him jerk away from the drawing. He looked in the direction of the sound. It had been caused by the pencil dropping from the desk and now rolling on the floor, moved by the morning breeze. Looking one last time at the picture, he grabbed his boots with grey woollen socks partially dangling from them and opened the room door, going downstairs.

After finishing his breakfast, made from yesterday's lamb stew his father had made and drinking some water, Hiccup went outside.

He decided to take a hike around the village before going to the Kill Ring. He weaved his way between the buildings, heading down to the docks. There was one special spot where he liked to be when he was downcast and gloomy. He was now going down one of the main streets from which he could see the docks and ships, some far away on the horizon, some still harboured. Two of the ships were standing out above others. One of them was Berk's knarr, the other was Braedan's vessel.

Braedan had a giant ship, at least two times bigger than Berk's knarr. A light brown, polished wooden hull was gleaming in the sun. It had three big masts with three white sails folded at the top of them. The deck was crawling with seamen carrying cargo and various items acquired during the trading trip. Berk had a one big crane that worked using a counterweight. The counterweight was attached to a large pole with ropes hanging from it. People were pulling the ropes, making the crane do its job. Currently, it was lifting a large wooden frame filled with various goods. The top was partially hidden under the large leather cover. Hiccup only managed to make out a few dragon skins and some of the swords and axes Berk's Vikings used, before the crate disappeared through a large opening in the deck.

One of the men, wearing a black fur coat, was onboard, shouting commands and swearing horribly. It was Crazy Ricky with his parrot, the Frantic Eye. Hiccup met him once personally, a few years ago, when the bosun had been completely wasted after a night-long alcoholic binge. His feathered friend had not been drunk, or even if it was, Hiccup couldn't tell the difference anyway. It was squawking insults at everybody in the nearest vicinity. That was the only thing that this bird could do, and it was doing a pretty neat job of it. It was said that it would swear in twenty languages. Knowing the exaggerated stories the mariners were telling, Hiccup didn't really believe it, but it still hurt to hear a small, ridiculous looking bird in a small brown leather hat call him in perfect Norse "little shit-poking, underpants sniffing pile of steaming crap".

Hiccup, noticing the havoc near the docks, was about to turn left and take another route, when a voice full of surprise and delight called behind him.

"Hiccup!"

He turned and saw Braedan, as usual in his white and red clothes, with an affable smile on his face. He was walking sharply towards him, a white trail of smoke regressing from his pipe.

"It _is_ really you! I'm so thrilled to see you!" Braedan gave a few shoulder slaps to emphasize his rupturing joy of the present situation, accidentally knocking Hiccup towards the ground from the force. In the blink of an eye, the merchant's hand was on the other side of the falling teen, supporting his balance. The boy grabbed at his punched shoulder and winced from pain. The merchant, completely unperturbed, continued cheerfully.

"I was really hoping to see you! How long has it been already…?" Braedan stopped his ebullition and waited expectantly for Hiccup to answer. The teen was caught off guard, still rubbing his now numb shoulder. After a moment Hiccup's brain caught up that somebody was actually talking to him and seemed happy about it.

"A year?" He supplied.

"A year, it is!" The trader agreed, shaking his head in a tragic gesture, "Such a long time! I really hoped I could've met you earlier, because…," Braedan with a dramatic looking gesture put a hand behind his jacket.

Hiccup started to tense up in dread. The merchant jerked out his hand from beneath his clothes. The boy lifted his hands in front of his face in a defensive gesture.

Nothing happened, and Hiccup lowered his hands and looked out of narrowed eyes. In the trader's hand was a leather sack, a little bigger than the merchant's hand. Braedan held it in his outstretched hand, grinning widely, showing his pearl white teeth. The sack was in front of Hiccup's face, so close that he had to squint his eyes to look at it. The merchant, still holding it closely to the teen's face, gestured with his head for the boy to take it.

Hiccup hesitantly embraced the small bag with his both hands. It wasn't as heavy as he expected, and from the touch, it had something powdery inside. With a slightly opened mouth, Hiccup tried to articulate a question.

"Um… what… that…?" before he even finished, the trader butted in, unable to hide his excitement.

"Best quality English gun powder you can buy!"He said in a voice full of unhidden happiness and pride.

Hiccup's mind again needed a moment to analyze this information. The answer hit him a moment later. He had been asking for various, sometimes illegal, items to help him create the Ultimate Dragon Killing Machine ™ ©. Every year the merchant came with the requested things, never taking anything in return. Gun powder had been another of his requests. However, even such help did not keep Hiccup from failing miserably every time he tried something with these items. The Mangler was his first project that was merchant-item free, and it had worked.

Hiccup liked the merchant for helping him with his goals; however, things had changed now.

"You will convert these beasts into burning pieces in no time with this! Take a few ounces of this beauty and put it into a small metal container. Now, all you have to do is to light it … I would recommend a twine with a tip soaked in oil as a fuse…," Braedan continued his rambling, gesticulating widely.

Hiccup just stood, smiling sheepishly, trying to look interested, even though the only thing in his mind was how to return this gift as politely as possible. The merchant stopped abruptly, noticing the boy's expression.

"Is something wrong, my friend?" Braedan questioned.

"I just want to say… Sir… that as magnificent this gift is… I just would like to point out… not insult you or anything…but…," Hiccup said, trying to connect his thoughts together.

"Why don't you want to take it?" The merchant didn't even wait for the boy to finish.

"I just… think that I can manage on my own now… yes!" Hiccup said, happy that he had come with this brilliant, in his opinion, way to get out of this situation.

Braedan was about to say something, obviously seeing that there was something more to Hiccup's explanation, when he jerked his head suddenly back and kept it there for a moment, as if listening to something. His expression changed from cheerful to focused and serious. Hiccup began to worry about this sudden change of attitude. Shortly, the trader turned his head back in his direction with a smile again, but his eyes had a sharp and serious look.

"I see, very well then," Braedan said and took the sack from Hiccup's hands, hiding it behind his jacket.

Hiccup was surprised that it went over so easy. Remembering that he would have Dragon Training later, he said with his usual and eloquent grace:

"I… need to… y'know…uh… Sir…,"

"Of course, you have your own things to take care of," Braedan said, and shook hands with the boy. Hiccup again felt pain, this time from his hand being crushed by the trader's palm.

Hiccup nodded his head respectfully and turned to leave.

"I forgot about one little thing, my boy," The merchant's careless-sounding voice made Hiccup face the trader again. Braedan had a finger on the side of his nose, poking it with a thoughtful expression.

He approached closer to the boy and spoke quietly.

"You wouldn't possibly have wound up getting near… how to say it…?"

Hiccup squared his bony shoulders, seeing the trader's eyes boring into his. They were looking extremely grievous now, even though Braedan had a pleasant smile on his face.

"A dragon…?" He asked, looking deeply into Hiccup's eyes.

The teen almost jumped, and he felt that he was starting to sweat. Did he know? Nobody possibly could know about it! Hiccup didn't tell anybody. The teen didn't know what to answer, feeling panic overwhelming him. The silence continued, with the merchant looking at Hiccup, and the boy looking as far away as possible from the merchant's eyes.

Finally, Braedan made a step back and laughed.

"Of course you were near dragons! There was a raid not so long ago!"

Hiccup, noticing it was a joke, started laughing in a nervously pretended way. After a moment, the boy did what he always did throughout his life in such situations.

"I need to go…so… g'bye," Hiccup said awkwardly and ran away like a Nightmare was behind him.

Braedan stopped laughing, and the smile washed off his face immediately.

His steel gaze followed the teen's small back until he disappeared in one of the small alleys. Braedan sucked his pipe deeply and soon fumed out a white cloud.

"So, he really smelled like a Night Fury…?" He mused.

The area around him was empty. He was now standing alone in the middle of the street.

"That's quite interesting… don't you think, Balerdargur…?"

A sudden gust of air blew from behind him, scuffing up billows of dust from the road, and making his open jacket flap on the raging wind. That was the only answer he received.

* * *

Hiccup ran through a few more alleys before stopping. He looked behind, not seeing anyone following him.

The merchant had given him a scare, there. For a moment, Hiccup really thought that he was done for, that Braedan knew about his secret. The boy didn't even want to imagine the consequences for his decision of letting the most dangerous dragon escape alive.

Marching onwards, he noticed the white sails of the trader's ship unfolding, a few seagulls flying above calling loudly. Hiccup, knowing that he didn't have much time left before the training, headed towards his home first and took the axe that his father gave him. It was heavy, very simple and Viking-like with one bladed side with ancient Vikings runes graved on the handle that said "Less talking, more chopping!" A highly regarded Berkian proverb. Next he walked in the direction of the mountainside. He had his mind full of doubt and fear, but the decision had been made and he didn't want to run away from it. Even if he could always run away, that would only bring more bad than good. He would just go there, try to survive the training and once it was over, live happily ever after, without having to bother with any of the Vikingness-proving trials anymore.

He left the village premises now and went in the woods, thinking of how the training would look like. His father had never allowed him to watch the other trainees fight. No child could see it. It was a ritual of passage, warped in mystery and doubt. A hundred myths rose among the pre-teen Vikings.

Youths also were forbidden to fight dragons until they were able to pass this training. Their jobs at dragon raid time consisted mostly of bucket-filling-water-bringing activities. Hiccup was an exception; his father, for very justified reasons, (like not causing a few houses to blow up), did not allow him outside during the raids. The only thing he was allowed to do was to go and help Gobber with his work as a blacksmith apprentice and make sure replacement weapons were available when Vikings damaged theirs during the fight.

He was never a very sociable person, and that secluded him from most of the gossip. That, however, did not stop his mind from conjuring thousands of possible things that could happen during the training. Each image described in great detail a very gruesome, painful, and prolonged method of dying, whether from a dragon's clawed paw, fiery breath or spiked tail.

He went up the hill and started climbing the rocky path, getting closer to the training grounds. Emerging from the corner, he saw the small group of teens standing in front of the Kill Ring's big entrance doors. Hiccup knew all the boys and girls that stood there. His personal and very devoted-to-his-job tormentor, Snotlout, was demonstrating some killing move with his hands with his forever- faithful flunkey Tuffnut nearby, who was busy struggling with his sister, Ruffnut. On the other side, was the enormous figure of Fishlegs reading some book, and Astrid doing leg-stretching exercises on the ground. On the blonde girl's figure, Hiccup's eyes rested the longest. His gaze became unfocused, and his lips started to lift in a small simper. Shaking his head, he tried to concentrate.

_You might have an innocent and tiny crush on her, but you're here to survive this training…. Oh Gods how beautiful she is… No! Concentrate!... dragons, fire, danger…,_ he reasoned, trying to maintain as much equanimity as possible, but as soon as he looked at Astrid again, his look became absent-minded.

Catching himself at this activity again, he grabbed his hair with his hands and started kicking up the dirt from the road, hissing through his teeth angrily, cursing his useless mind.

Luckily for Hiccup, none of the teens paid attention to his seemingly unbalanced mentality, except for one. Fishlegs, standing near the wall, raised his head from the book and looked for a moment at Hiccup's small frame pacing from side to side and holding his head.

Soon, the scrawny teen fell on his knees and raised up his hand looking at it with painful expectation. After a few encouraging breaths he slapped himself hard once and then again…

Fishlegs looked at this charming display of self-respect with a neutral expression, and then went back to his book. He was not able to relish it for long, though, since Gobber was now opening the cage-door from the inside.

All the teens, except for Hiccup who was still busy adjusting his focus level at the moment, started to approach the blacksmith. Soon Gobber's voice dinned.

"All right, you lot! Let's get movin'!"

Hiccup, his hand raised already for another clearing mind-strike heard Gobber's voice. He got up to his feet and deeply breathed in the air, trying to get himself ready for what was coming.

He started to march towards the opened cage-door, feeling more frightened and depressed that he had to be here with every passing moment. Moving through the small space between one cage-door and another, he saw the things left on the ground near the wall by the other teenagers: coats, additional weapons and even Fishleg's book. It was most probably another book about dragons; Hiccup could only guess because the cover was inscribed with runes or letters in some language that Hiccup couldn't read.

Continuing forward he heard some shreds of excited chatting reaching him from his classmates' backs. They were talking about how many lovely contusions and scars they would receive during this training.

Hiccup grabbed his collar with his hand and made sure it was up as high as possible, concealing most of his neck burn scars. In his opinion, he had too many scars already, and getting another one was not a reason to celebrate.

"I always wanted some claw marks on my lower back, never got one there,"- Ruffnut said in her nonchalant voice. After a moment she added," Some burns would be nice, as well,"

"No pain, no gain," Astrid enriched the conversation with the old Viking wisdom.

Hiccup, plodding along behind them, thought that it was finally time for the others to notice him. He preferred to be done with the humiliation and get to the screaming and running away part as soon as possible.

"I always loved excruciating pain, myself! I never start a day without it!" he said, sarcastically.

Everybody's faces turned to him. Snotlout had an expression full of disgust. Tuffnut, on the other hand, seemed happy, probably because he would have somebody to hit. Ruffnut looked on with disapproval. Fishlegs' expression did not seem to show any negative emotions, but neither any positive ones.

And Astrid… she just seemed to emanate pure coldness towards the skinny Hiccup.

Snotlout snorted.

_Three…two…one…_, Hiccup counted in his mind.

"What is _that_ doing here? I thought girls are not allowed!" Snotlout said, but as soon he looked around, he found Ruffnut and Astrid glaring at him dangerously, the latter massaging her bandaged knuckles, and making them crack loudly.

However, before the girls could even express their opinion, Gobber approached from finishing his routine cage checking. He had been making sure that they would work properly for the training. He yelled loudly.

"Welcome to Dragon Training! Line up… and no fighting!" He boomed in the direction of the girls approaching Snotlout, pointing at them with the hook attached to his arm stump.

Hiccup had almost aligned with the others, when Gobber scooped him in a tight grip and spoke to him quietly.

"I'm happy ya managed t' drop by! Don't get bothered by Snotlout's yappin'. Just try your best and ya should be fine… probably," Seeing the still diffident look on Hiccup's face, he thought it was time for him to shine with his soothing skills again, "Your hilariously small size will work t' your advantage! It will be harder for th' dragons t' blast ya!"

After his motivational speech, Gobber pushed Hiccup gently into the line, making him unable to stop so that he bashed Fishleg's body in the process.

"Do yer best in the training, because the best one of ya'll have the privilege of killin' his first dragon in front of th' entire village!" The blacksmith called out.

The teens exchanged looks full of delight at the thought of killing a dragon. Only Hiccup didn't look so pleased with such a possibility. He gave his '_Can- I-go-now_?' expression while his sturdy mentor approached the first cage and said strikingly, "Ya'll learn how t' fight a few of th' most popular dragon species around here."

Gobber paced from cage door to cage door, yelling the name of the respective dragon behind each one.

"The Deadly Nadder…,"

"Speed: 8, Armor: 16,"Fishlegs said out loud, his eyes shining with excitement.

"The Hideous Zippleback…,"

"11 stealth times two," The biggest teen spoke, louder this time.

"The Monstrous Nightmare…,"

"Fire Power: 15," Fishlegs provided.

"The Terrible Terror…," "Attack: 8, Venom: 12," The sturdy boy said so fast that it almost sounded like one word.

"**_Will ya stop that_**!" Gobber yelled, losing his patience with this conspicuously random dragon lecture. He rolled his eyes and approached the last doors. Smiling, he said, "And… say hello to the Specialty of the Day…," He placed his hand on the door-lock release lever,"…The Gronckle,"

Most of the teens started to look worried, Hiccup, especially. To his surprise, Snotlout was first to utter his disagreement to their teacher about releasing a fire-breathing, blood-thirsty dragon on them.

"Hey! Aren't you going to show us how to do the killing stuff first?"

Gobber grinned maliciously.

_Oh no… he is really going to do it!,_ Hiccup thought, knowing very well their teacher's intents. He started to look for anything he could use as a dragon-proof covering.

"As Astrid said… no pain, no gain," The blacksmith said and pushed down the lever.

The teens scattered, just in time. The Gronckle rocketed out from its cage, buzzing in the air with its rapid wing movement. It landed on the ground nearby the opposite wall, sliding on the stony floor. It took up a rock in its mouth and started chewing.

Using this moment of peace and quiet while the dragon was busy preparing his attack, Gobber started his teaching program.

"Think! What do ya need now?" He yelled at his running trainees.

"Some divine intervention?" Hiccup guessed, sprinting away from the incoming dragon.

"+5 speed?" Fishlegs tried his knowledge as well.

"A shield!" Astrid shouted. It wasn't even a question. It was a statement.

"Yes! Grab a shield, everyone!" Gobber shouted back.

All of the teens ran to the shield stands on both sides of the ring and took a shield. They were round and two elbows in diameter. Each had a dragon skin attached to the front side.

Hiccup tried to put his own on, but his mind was so hazy that he forgot how to put his hand into the supporting straps.

Gobber continued with his talk, approaching Hiccup and helping him to put the shield on.

"It 's yer most important piece of equipment. Always take a shield first!"

Hiccup was able to get a hold of the shield and was pushed into the middle of the arena by the blacksmith.

At the same time the twins were wrestling with each other to get the same shield, even though there were plenty of them lying on the ground around them. They were shouting invectives between themselves, pulling the shield, each trying to claim it and completely unaware that the Gronckle was long done with chewing the rock. It was flying lazily in circles right beneath the chained ceiling.

Noticing an easy target, it charged down and launched its fireball. It hit the shield that the twins were so eager get a hold of, right in the middle, making it spin rapidly in midair.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut, clutching that shield, revolved with it in a perfect performance of a synchronized five time barrel roll and excellently concluded with heavy landing.

"Minus five health points!" Fishlegs commented.

"Ruffnut, Tuffnut! You're out!" Gobber yelled.

The twins grunted unintelligibly from the floor and started to crawl on all-fours as far away as they could.

"Dragons hav' very good hearin'. Use the shields to create some noise! That will confuse them!" Gobber cried out encouragingly.

The four trainees left circled the dragon, smashing the shields with their weapons. The Gronckle shook its head repeatedly, obviously sensitive to the racket the humans around it made.

"Every dragon has a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?" Gobber queried, continuing with the theory part.

"Five?" Hiccup asked, trying to hit his shield as hard as possible. His hand was getting numb already from this short workout.

"Six!" Fishlegs shouted right after, his voice full of confidence.

"Six shots an' six of you, what a happy coincidence!" Gobber said cheerfully.

At the praise, Fishlegs raised his shielded arm highly in triumph. The dragon used the momentary lapse in defence and shot another of its blasts into the lifted shield, making it fly along with the fireball to the opposite wall. It hit it and exploded, sending the flying wooden pieces around. Fishlegs sprinted away, screaming like a girl.

"Fishlegs, out!'" Gobber said scratching his chin with his arm hook.

Hiccup just looked at the smoke trail that the ball of fire made, his mouth slightly opened. One of the wooden debris hit him lightly in the head and fell on the ground in a small clunk, burning. That was it; Hiccup wanted to do well in training, but not to end up as a well-done steak! He ran to the nearby shield stand and hid behind it, covering his head with the buckler, using an excellent military-approved tactic, "if I can't see them, they can't see me as well".

Gobber, with a sigh, stepped to the hiding boy, lifting him to his feet. He pushed Hiccup back into the area.

Snotlout, getting closer to Astrid, stopped his shield whacking and began talking to her, unmindful of the dragon zooming around.

"Wanna see my biceps? " He asked like it was the most normal thing you could ask while fighting a dangerous fire-breathing reptile. Silence followed.

Astrid was looking at the Gronckle with determination and focus, not paying any attention to the teen next to her. Snotlout considered this as an invitation to continue with his small-talk.

"You don't need to be so eager about it," He said while flexing his muscles. "Anyway, I call my left one 'Monster' and my right one 'Bigger Monster', because it's… well, bigger. Get it?"

He snorted at his devastatingly good joke.

The Gronckle, looking at Snotlout's exhibition of pure smoothness, rolled its eyes in a very human way. Astrid suddenly somersaulted away from the chuckling teen. Snotlout was just able to look in front of him and see the flaming ball rushing in his direction. It hit his shield and sent him flying. He landed on his back with a painful gasp, sliding on the floor.

"Snotlout, yer dead! ...or maybe not!" Gobber bellowed carelessly, keeping his arm behind his back and walking casually, observing now the two teens left in the middle of the ring. Hiccup was just standing still, not knowing what to do. Astrid was standing low on her legs, shield in the middle of her chest, axe kept low for balance, circling the dragon. Then she lunged toward the ground and came up in a somersault. She landed near Hiccup. The scrawny boy looked at her, and his cheeks reddened.

"You're…you're doing quite well," Hiccup breathed out. His mind decided that trying to impress a girl was much more important than his own survival. The boy was happy that he had finally managed to say one whole sentence to Astrid almost without any stutter.

"And…you're not!" Hiccup's crush answered back without any delay, running away from him.

Hiccup just managed to verbalize "huh?," when the Gronkle's blast hit his shield hard. It flew away, jerking his arm back. He felt his shoulder bone almost leave its socket from the rapid movement. He started running after the rolling shield. The dragon sent another blast at the shield, making it leave the ground and hit the far-away wall hard with a loud sound of broken wood.

Hiccup seeing it, covered his head with his hands and sprinted away, soon meeting the wall and finding himself cornered. He turned only to see the widely opened jaw of the Gronckle and the yellow glow starting to emanate from deep inside the throat. Hiccup squeezed his eyelids shut hard, expecting the worst. The blast shattered the large fragment of the wall, stone pieces whistling through the air.

Hiccup opened his eyes and saw Gobber forcing the dragon inside the cage, using his arm hook as a chewing toy for the Gronckle and Astrid having her axe held highly with a rather frightened expression, but in less than a blink of an eye she had on her cold face again.

When the blacksmith was almost inside the dragon's compartment, he raised his good hand, ready to punch the biting beast to let it go. Before he even could clench the palm into the fist, the Gronckle, stopped seizing his prosthetic with its teeth and flew back to its cage slowly, as though nothing had happened.

Gobber looked as the dragon landed on its hay pile, circled a few times in it and then lay down, returning the look with interest. The blacksmith felt a well-known chill going up through his spine as he watched the dragon's eyes. The blacksmith looked back at Hiccup, who was watching the flaming blast crater with disbelief. Looking back at the dragon, Gobber thought hard about this whole situation. He always used the Gronckle as the first dragon for the trainees to fight, simply because it had never, ever killed a trainee. In Gobber's career as a dragon keeper, this particular dragon, always found a justified excuse not to kill somebody. The dragon would wind up doing things such as simply knocking everybody out, running out of shots, making trainees bored by only flying around in circles or letting itself be incapacitated. The Gronckle, lying seemingly unconscious on the ground, miraculously always got up on its feet after the novices were gone. Plus, it always made it out without even a one scratch on its hide. Today's situation, however, was original and it had been quite a narrow escape for Hiccup. But, again, nobody had died in the end. Up to now, the blacksmith had never seen a Gronckle charging its blast just before attacking. Unless… it was done on purpose so he would have time to grab its jaw in time and turn its head in the other direction, saving the boy.

Gobber rejected that thought immediately.

"I'm gettin'crazy I think," he whispered, shaking his head slightly. Looking back at the dragon that was still eyeing him curiously, he said to the resting Gronckle, "And I don't like ya,".

The dragon's fanged lips started to curl into something resembling a smile at those words.

Gobber slammed the door as fast as he could, not wanting to see another of those dragon smirks.

Gathering his thoughts, he turned to the group of teens who had been grouping in front of him. Except for Astrid, who had an obvious grimace of disappointment on her face, all of them looked terrified and either had problems with standing or just simply stood in shock. Snotlout was swaying on his feet, with his face black from smoke. Fishlegs looked terrorized. A shaken Ruffnut was dragging her brother's body who was half-hanging on her shoulder, moaning quietly. Hiccup was still standing near the blasted out hole, looking more scared than anyone from the group.

Gobber shouted some final tender endearments at them.

"Remember, younglings, a dragon will _always_ try t' kill ya!" He turned to Hiccup, "Always…!" he said to him, making sure to underline this concept as much as possible; the boy had to remember this lesson.

"That's all for today! We will meet in the Mead Hall tonight for dinner and discuss today's training … now, go clean yourselves up" Gobber said, looking at the teens, who were all covered in dirt.

The youths started to leave. Gobber opened the supply compartment's door and started to prepare some cement in a large bowl on the ground. Hiccup, who had not left with the others, hesitantly drew close to the blacksmith, now stirring the grey mass with his hook. Gobber glanced at the boy. Nobody said anything for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Hiccup finally blurted out.

"For what?" The blacksmith answered, taking a small bucket of water from an opened barrel.

"For… for ruining everything again. For being… well…, " Hiccup stopped, trying to find a word.

"Hiccup?" Gobber offered, kneeling and starting to stir again.

The scrawny teen didn't answer with any sarcastic comment this time, just said, looking at the ground, "Yes…,"

Gobber took a closer look now at the boy.

"What's wrong, lad?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"Nothing. Just wanted to apologize for wasting your training, Sir. You know the routine,, I appear and _wham_! Something explodes," Hiccup said, trying to force a smile on his face.

The blacksmith took a small cloth and wiped his hook off.

"This is so much _not_ like ya, whinin' like a little girl an' pityin' yerself. Where is yer usual energy, the _everything-is-possible attitude_? Wasn't ya th' one that wanted t' be here more than anyone?" Gobber said firmly.

Hiccup stood for a moment in quiet; the blacksmith waited.

Then, the boy lifted his head, and the blacksmith forgot to breathe for a moment, because there, in Hiccup's green eyes, determination and courage shined, so strong that it was contagious, and he found himself smiling.

"Do you think there will be a way we can make things so we don't have to kill dragons anymore?" Hiccup asked with a glare that made Gobber feel proud. The blacksmith continued smiling warmly.

The boy, seeing it, asked confused.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

The blacksmith crouched and starting stirring again, filling the air with clanking sounds.

"Ya just seem, ya've grown up a mite. No teen has ever questioned it before, even once… It makes me happy, I think," he said, not looking at the youth.

Hiccup felt hot on his face, touched by and not used to hearing such kind words.

"To answer yer question, I don't know. It is probably impossible t' live in peace here. This is just a cursed island ya've been born to. But who knows the future? Maybe someday, things will change so we won't have t' kill anything anymore. Just have some hope, lad. Yer giving me a feeling that ya can do anything, only just have a little more faith in yerself ," Gobber said. He took the bowl and poured the mass into a waiting bucket.

"Thank you," That was all what Hiccup was able to say.

"Don't thank me, lad, just don't get yerself killed, here!" Gobber said with a now stern voice "Next time, I might not be able to save yer hide! Remember, I told ya that a dragon will always go for the kill, didn't I?" He added.

Hiccup's eyes shined, like he was coming up with an invention or idea. Gobber, seeing this, sighed.

"Oh no, ya're not goin' t' tell me…," He began.

"Sorry, I have to go!," The boy said, and he started running to the exit. Gobber watched as he disappeared, scratching his head with his hand. He took the bucket with cement and another one filled with rocks, a few bricklayers' tools sticking out from it, and started working on the hole in the wall in silence.

"Ya should be th' one t' have such talks with him, Stoick," he said to himself.

* * *

Hiccup ran down the rocky path, filled with energy. Before, he had felt this energy in anticipation of killing a dragon, but this time it was for a completely different reason. His teacher's words echoed in his mind: maybe he could change things after all. He was thinking excitedly.

_I just have met living proof that a dragon won't always try to kill a human! I just have to…_

He was not concentrating on the path; he stumbled on the rock and fell. He felt some pain in his knees and elbows, but not much. He started to think what he would do now. The Night Fury had flown away long ago; he wouldn't meet that dragon anymore.

Disappointment started filling him like a poison. He fought it back and looked ahead, seeing the distant woods, where he had encountered the dragon. He felt the energy fill him again. He would _not_ give up… it would just not be like him.

Hiccup got up and started running again.

* * *

Shade opened his eyes, looking at the gnarled roots above him, knitting the roof of his bolt-hole. He smelled the refreshing aroma of his wound covering. Satisfied, he noticed that the swelling above his right eye had disappeared, and he could open the eye fully without any pain, and that his head had stopped hurting as well. He felt a little numbness in his neck when he moved his head down to look at his chest. The resin had dried there already, creating an amber mirror, iridescently shining in the bright sun light entering from the small cracks between the branches. The pain from his cracked ribs had subsided, making deep breathing tolerable. The laceration wound had ameliorated as well; instead of pain, Shade now felt a strong itching from the healing injury. He would have to control himself now not to scratch it for at least two more sun cycles.

His tailfins seemed to be fine as well. His gaze turned to his tail rapidly. He could see his right tailfin half-way extended, but the place where he should have seen his left was empty. A resin wound dressing on the tail reminded him about the loss. It was so hard for Shade to believe then what he had seen; he _felt _his left tailfin was there, he sensed it moving, extending obediently as commanded it. How was that possible that he couldn't see it? It was there, it _had_ to be.

His ear antennas lifted from a dread-filled excitement, and he moved his tail to his muzzle so fast that it lashed him on his eyes. Shaking his head, he looked at the missing fin again, his eyes moving furiously over every detail of the wound, searching for it.

_Why is it not there? ...I feel it!...,_ he thought feverishly and pressed his left paw on the top of his tail, _I feel it! It moves. Just move for me …please?_

He pressed his tail harder, hearing the resin break. Nothing happened. Feeling his fragile sense of well-being shatter, he started to hit the tail wound with his paw, striking harder with each swing.

_Move…move… move….move, move, move…._

"**MOVE**_!" _he roared loudly_. _It started echoing in the cove. A few birds took off from the nearby trees chirping loudly, distressed by the noise.

Shade was breathing loudly and deeply. He blinked, looking at the paw covering his tail tip. He blinked again; the smell of blood brought him back to his senses. His slit pupils dilated slowly, and his respiration eased.

He lifted his paw and turned it. The bottom side had been stained in his own blood, a few resin shards shining in the redness. The blood poured from the reopened tail-injury, running on the grass and soil.

More painful for Shade then was not the pain he inflicted on himself, but a mind-consuming anguish. He still could feel his absent tail fin, even with the waves of pain emanating from the ripped open wound.

He put the tail into his mouth, feeling the blood fill it, and sucked the injury. The feeling that his left tail fin still existed was there, but as he was swallowing the blood it was getting smaller and smaller, until it was masked by the massive cover of cruel reality.

The blood had almost stopped flowing out now. The damage was done, and the injury looked worse than before. Shade could see a small bone part of the tailbone showing an empty half-moon shape of circular socket on it, where one of his original tailfin bones once sprang, shining from there like a nightmarish smile.

Trying not to look at it as much as possible, he treated the injury with resin again. The sun was shining strongly today, and there were no clouds in the sky. Logically, these conditions would forecast a very sunny day, however, Shade knew as he woke up that it would rain later, and it would rain a lot. The humidity and the smell of the air were unmistakable.

He lay down on his back near the lake's shore, exposing his chest and tail injury to the sun, knowing that sunrays kill the invisible infectious organisms. Warmness started to fill his body, but he did not register it.

Looking at the smooth and vertical walls of his prison, he thought that maybe they were too high for him to breach and he shouldn't attempt to break free.

He started to get worried when his stomach growled, but it released some of the physical tension inside him. He relaxed a bit more, letting the sun do its job. He would just lay there for a little longer and rest. It would be easy for him to escape from this pit. All his life he had managed to escape alive through many possibly life-threatening situations, this would be no different. Self-assured, he closed his eyes.

_I'll just lie here…for a moment… everything is going to be fine… it must be_, Shade thought. Before he even realized it, he was asleep, unaware that hope alone was not always enough. Sometimes, something- or someone else- was needed to make it change into a reality.

* * *

The wood creaked and the sails flapped as the ship moved forward, breaking through the ocean's body. The deck was almost empty, only a few seamen were working on the sails, pulling the ropes and shouting to each other or cleaning the wooden boards. One small group was sitting together in a circle playing cards and laughing loudly. On the forward part of the ship, looking at the waves, Crazy Ricky was standing with his parrot on his shoulder, sleeping for a change, instead of cursing. On the side, leaning against the balustrade, Braedan looked at the sky, his jacket opened, smoking his pipe. He had a silver necklace on his neck with a densely knitted chain, and a deep green octagonal shaped crystal hung from it.

"The storm is coming," he threw out, looking at the cloudless blueness.

"Yes, it was quite fun, I guess," he said, still gazing up. The bosun near him didn't move a bit or give any sort of recognition at his captain's talking.

"What about him? We won't do anything, it is not our business," Braedan said.

Ricky turned back and walked away, inspecting the sails on his way.

Braedan, with a sigh, turned as well and faced the water, bending over the shining brown wooden railing. He pulled out the small sack from beneath his jacket and looked at it for a moment.

"I almost feel sorry for tampering with the items for all of his inventions," He spoke out.

After that, he let the sack go, and it disappeared in the water with a quiet splash. He turned back and started walking away, when he smiled suddenly.

"Yes… almost."

* * *

AN: A selfish request from me. Can I ask you now, kind reader to press the review button and write a few words about how I am doing so far? If you do not wish to leave a review, nothing simpler, send me a message. For the non-native English speaker like me it is very important to know if there is something I need to change. If my style is boring, say it! Don't be afraid to say what you think. I am very critical towards my writings and I expect the same in the reviews. Thank you for your patience and understanding.


	10. Catharsis

Disclaimer: Same... let me check... yes it's the same.

* * *

Hiccup stood in front of the cut ropes belonging to the bola weapon that had downed the Fury, panting heavily from the long run. He picked up one of the almost perfectly spherical stones, remembering how much work and swearing it had cost him to produce it.

Today, Hiccup noticed many more details than the day before. He saw the rusty-coloured stain in the sandy soil and the grass blades on which the dragon had lain. He had seen enough dragon blood not to notice this. For him, it had always looked exactly like human blood

He dropped the rock and crouched near the blood-soaked earth. He took a small amount of dirt and gritted it between his fingers. He was not doing it for tracking purposes. He was doing it out of curiosity.

As exhausted as he was after his long run, his mind was weirdly calm and focused. He smelled the dirt, put a few grains into his mouth and tasted it. He spat it out almost immediately and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He was right. Dragon and human blood were the same, no matter the texture, smell or taste.

He turned his gaze to the rusted stain again, focusing on more important matters. The dragon had been hurt from the impact path he had seen uphill. It was most probably a wound on its chest. The wound wasn't deep, judging by the amount of blood in the soil. Hiccup estimated it to be six fingers long and two fingers wide.

The boy was beyond amazement that something could not only survive such fall, but also be able to attack in a lightning motion and then still have some strength left to flee.

Hiccup tried again to think of any reason why he had been allowed to live, but his mind still did not supply one that would satisfy him.

The second stain on the ground aroused his interest. It was placed behind a small rock where the dragon's tail had been. He had not seen it yesterday. The side of the rock was red where the tail had leaned. The dragon had injured its tail as well; how severely, the boy couldn't tell exactly.

Hiccup felt a stinging feeling of guilt prick his heart.

He looked ahead, easily making out the tracks the dragon had left whilst escaping. Hiccup stood up and followed, hoping with all his heart that he had not badly hurt that dragon. The Fury had survived the crash, so most probably it was all right now, already flying away to be reunited with its draconic family. Yes, that _had_ to be it, he reasoned, going down through the woods.

* * *

The pain flared from Shade's chest as he hit the ground hard again, from his fruitless endeavour to climb the stone wall.

"_Fúin enlea_!" Shade swore through gritted teeth, almost unable to move from pain.

He had awaken earlier, all joyful and giddy; this picture of sweet happiness consisted of him lying on his back with a picturesque line of drool on the side of his mouth and his tongue lolling out obliviously. At that thought, Shade growled lowly. How foolish he had been to delude himself in thinking it would be so easy to escape from that hole.

He glanced at his injured tail and, with a roar, he jumped again up on the wall, flapping his wings as hard as he could. His claws struck the stone, not able to get any grip. Feeling himself fall again, he spread out his wings, trying to ease the fall. This time he hit the ground hard, but managed to drop down on his legs which absorbed the impact.

His frustration was not on a level he could control any longer. He knew that he shouldn't try to escape with his wounds still fresh. It had all started from him trying to make a small jump on the wall to climb it as a test. Before he knew it, he was already on a rampage, jumping around as if he had gone mad; and maybe he had. He wanted to do something, _anything,_ not to be stuck on the ground! Not just wait for death from hunger or illness and later be so weak that he would no longer move, ending up as prey for wild animals. He always wanted to die fighting, not crippled and injured, feeling himself waning with every passing day. The word "humiliation" was not even close to describing what he had felt while clawing the rock and seeing the edge so far away from him, unable to reach it, even with his best efforts, gliding down in unpredicted patterns, not able to control his flight.

He was a proud creature of the sky, feared and respected! Clenching his teeth, he jumped again, blinded by fury. It ended the same way.

He crashed on the ground. This time his left front paw gave in, and he slid a short distance on the ground, stopping in front of the water. He didn't feel much pain; the fury blocked it.

He shot out a small plasma bolt and immediately regretted it. A pain, as though his head was splitting in two, filled his mind.

He shook his head rapidly, trying to get rid of it. This happened whenever he was forcing his _Aeldengandari _out. Nobody knew why, but his kind's firepower depended on the mind, not on gas or any other substance, and on how well he concentrated. If he mistreated it, he would grow weaker mentally. His body would stop responding well and as a bonus, he would get a headache. Like now.

He saw a silverfish blink beneath the surface. He was so hungry that he could eat anything! Acting on instinct, he plunged his head into the water but did not catch any fish.

He tried to stand up, but his legs buckled beneath him. Though his mind was still strong, his body simply couldn't tolerate this abuse any longer. He started cursing inwardly with every possible words in every language he knew, from Old Tongue to Common. He even repeated the few sounds from human tongues he had heard in his life that unmistakably meant something bad (unless dropping a rock on your foot or stumbling and falling was a reason to squeal from joy).

_It is all because of that scaleless biped. If I could only get him in my claws now I would…,_he thought, but was disrupted by the small clonking sound of something falling from the cliff.

His head turned. He had seen it for less than a blink of an eye, but he automatically registered the small piece of black wood disappearing in the grass and the sounds of it breaking on the rocks.

His eyes drifted up; in the middle of the small rock opening sat a small human figure with an expression full of fear and a slightly opened mouth.

He also happened to have deep green eyes.

Shade couldn't help feeling like having a pile of fish placed in front of him.

He cocked his head and looked at that human he hated with every fibre of his being.

… _I would skin him alive… if I could move..._, he thought, not feeling any power in his body. Firing his bolt earlier just weakened him more and now, he had that human displayed right in front of him as though waiting to get blasted with something that was hot, exploded on impact and left a big, burning hole.

Shade thought that getting frantic like this was not such an excellent plan after all.

The human was so lucky he couldn't move or attack with fire; he just sat there and gazed at him, still looking scared.

Actually, Shade _could_ attack with fire one more time, but this would reward him with a headache that would make the current one feel like a gentle breeze and result in a complete loss of strength. He would be defenceless, but as he kept looking at the human, he felt blazing rage rise in him again.

_I'd rather lose my ability to fly than let you look at me this way now_! he reasoned furiously.

"Oh wait, I already did!" he roared at the human.

The human docked back, scared by the noise, but did not move or run away.

Shade concentrated. He had to use the Mild-level control technique to start the familiar vibration in his throat. He would pay a price for that, as well, in some form of pain, but he didn't care. The blast would be small, but it would suffice.

He looked into the eyes of the human, whose presence again was starting to fill Shade's mind with calmness. He felt the fire burn his throat; he couldn't keep it inside any longer. Doubt started to fill him again, just like the last time he had wanted to kill the human cub.

Trying to suppress this feeling, he closed his eyes and released the bolt. He felt a warmness on his skin from the bolt, heard the blast of explosion, rocks cracking and falling- and a loud human yell.

Shade's head collapsed on the ground, the pain making white dots dance in front of his closed eyes. He didn't even have the strength to roar from the agony. He just heaved and waited until the worst wave of pain went away.

Soon, he was able to slightly open one of his eyelids to look at the cliff.

_Did I get him…?_ he thought.

There was a crater in on one of the boulders creating an opening with small stones still falling out from it.

Shade did not even curse when he saw that on the right side of it was the human, holding his hands over his head as a protection. The dragon observed as the human put his hands down and looked in Shade's eyes again. He only had a small cut on his cheek. The injury had started to bleed, but the human didn't do anything to wipe it. He just let the blood travel down and start dripping from his face. His eyes expressed such sadness that Shade felt his pain in his heart as well.

Shade tried to laugh with his low draconic laugh, but as soon as he did, the pain from his chest and head blinded him again. Instead he lay flat on the ground, not feeling any energy left in his body. He opened one eyelid half-way and looked at the human, not wanting to cease the contact.

_Why are you looking at me like this…? _he thought, meeting the green gaze, _I'm pathetic, am I not?, _

The human still looked on with his sad eyes.

Shade felt his heart throbbing, but it was different, it was like he felt somebody else's… sadness.

His panting continued, and he felt his eyelid closing slowly.

_Don't look at me in this way…. Why won't you roar your battlecry? Why won't you just come down and kill me?... Why do you pity me you foolish human?..._

_I should be the... one to... pity... you._

He tried to return the stare, but he found himself dozing off, eyelid closing, even with his mind trying to resist the urge. He didn't want to be seen weaker than he already was, in front of the human child that had defeated him.

* * *

Hiccup observed this beautiful, magnificent creature lying in front of him with barely any strength left to move. He looked into the halfway opened eye of the dragon, accepting all the anger and hatred shining in it.

He had tracked the dragon without any problems and had found it trapped in the pit. At first, he was happy, actually more joyous from this than from of anything else he had experienced in his whole life. He watched in awe the dragon try to climb. The boy had such a elated expression as he drew a simple sketch of the beast in his notebook, not able to hide his excitement.

Then he had briefly wondered why the Fury didn't fly away- until he had noticed the missing tailfin.

Hiccup's smile had then broken- like the pencil that fell out from his, suddenly numb, fingers- on the rock called "reality". He tried to deny the image when the dragon, probably hearing the noise from the falling pencil, looked in his direction.

At that moment Hiccup understood that he had made the most powerful and elusive of dragons a cripple.

He felt guilt clutch his heart in a painful embrace. The dragon's eyes were so full of loathing and rage, as if they were saying, "Do you like what you see? Are you happy now? Have you destroyed enough? Have you satisfied your human ego yet?"

When the Fury had launched its blast at him, Hiccup had screamed in fear and tried to protect his head. One of the small rock pebbles had cut through his skin on the right cheek. Hiccup's eyes, under the hands held in front of them in a protective grip, had changed from fearful to sad.

He deserved all this. All the aggression and loathing now directed at him.

Those green dragon eyes, so different and yet similar to his own, showed him that it was not a mindless beast lying in front of him, but a being with feelings and a conscious mind. Hiccup wanted to believe in that, even if it made it more painful for him.

He let his hands drop and looked at the dragon again. He looked into the Fury's barely opened eye until it closed and the dragon fell asleep, chest lifting with heavy breaths.

Hiccup sat cross-legged, observing the slumbering dragon he had mutilated and thinking.

All his life had been about him and him only. There was not a day that he had not thoughtof killing a dragon and earning his place in the Viking society; and, of course, pleasing his father no matter what it took or whom it hurt on the way.

He had been selfish all his life. It was amazing that the consequences of him injuring the other villagers when his attempts had backfired had not been grimer after all these years of inventing new things, new weapons and ways of killing that ultimate prize he desired so much.

Now, he finally had done it. The reward was in front of him, sleeping, exhausted, bleeding and unable to fly anymore

He grabbed his forelock, feeling more self-loathing than he ever had in his life. He had never considered other people's feelings when going outside to "join" another dragon raid. True, people had been injured, but nobody had died, and so he had brushed off their pain-filled-cries and comments with his sarcastic sense of humour. He had never stopped to look at the side effects of what he was doing; "consequences" was just a word in his vast vocabulary. He knew about them but never had really felt them in his heart…until now.

A small drop fell on the rock in front of Hiccup. Surprised, he looked up and saw that the sky had clouded over. Soon it started to rain lightly, but Hiccup didn't move from his position. He still looked at the dragon, until it started to get dark.

He stood up, all wet and cold, but he didn't mind. Looking at the dragon one last time, he thought about saying something. Apologize? Beg for forgiveness? Say that everything was going to be all right? Normally, he just would say something sarcastic and walk away, but he didn't feel like it now. He didn't feel like himself at all since he had met this dragon.

And suddenly, he knew what to say.

"Thank you," he whispered.

His fists clenched, and a green fire blazed in his eyes. He was going to help this dragon, and he was not going to run away from the responsibility.

Not this time.

* * *

It had become dark outside by the time Hiccup opened the Mead Hall's doors. The rain was heavy now; the boy didn't even want to count how many puddles he had fallen in when making his way back from the Pit.

His boots made a squishy sound on the rocky floor; as he walked he left a path of water behind him. He already heard Gobber's educating voice.

"T' tell ya that ya were terrible today would be praising ya! Snotlout! Tell me, where did ya go wrong today?"

The answer was immediate.

"Huh? I did something wrong at the training?" Snotlout asked with an honestly surprised voice. Gobber's calm voice followed, like he was explaining something to a five years-old kid with an intelligence deficiency, "Fire blast hit yer shield, ya were dead… got it?"

"But I'm alive!" Snotlout shouted, protesting.

Hiccup was about to turn from behind the wooden column and see the group, but in his mind he already anticipated Gobber face-palming himself with a loud clapping sound.

Indeed, exactly this happened a moment after.

"Astrid?" The blacksmith asked in a tired voice.

"My dodging was slow and clumsy. I held my shield too far away from my body when rolling on the ground. I couldn't keep my balance; it was horribly performed. My first somersault was quite all right, but the second was sloppy."

Astrid paused, eyeing Hiccup, who, without any word, took a bowl with fried chicken legs in it and passed by the table around which the teens were sitting. The rest of them, except for Fishlegs who was reading his book, observed him as well. Snotlout put his legs on the free space near him on the bench, idiotically grinning to the passing Hiccup. The scrawny teen didn't even glance at this. Ruffnut had her chin in her hand and looked at the boy without any interest. Her brother was trying to make a dagger stand on its tip. Astrid crossed her arms and looked at Hiccup, her expression angry. The small youth, seeing that, nervously started correcting his rain-tangled hair.

He wound up sitting by himself at the completely empty neighbouring table and started wolfing down the chicken legs.

Gobber, seeing the latecomer, cleared his throat trying to release the sudden tension.

"Yes… very good, Astrid, ya need to be tough on yerself. Now, where did Hiccup go wrong today?" Gobber asked, looking sternly in the boy's direction.

The group of teens perked up at those words; it was like giving a group of lions a defenceless lamb.

Hiccup started eating even faster, pretending not to care.

"He showed up?" Snotlout began.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut laughed. Fishlegs was still in his own book-reading world, and Astrid was looking at Hiccup coldly.

"He didn't get eaten?" Ruffnut said.

The teens laughed loudly again. Snotlout rose from his seat as if he had gotten some excellent idea.

"He forgot to get some muscles!"

What followed was just an exchange of mocking comments between Snotlout and Tuffnut.

"He forgot to grow up!"

"He didn't blow anything up!"

"He didn't blow himself up!"

"His screams were too quiet!"

"Yeah, totally dude! He screamed like a little girl!" Their laughter echoed in the Hall.

"Enough!" Gobber said sharply. The riot stopped immediately.

"He is never where he should be," The cold voice of Astrid sounded in the silence. Hiccup felt himself blushing. That comment hurt the most, not because it was insulting, but because it was true.

"Thank ya, Astrid!" Gobber said, grateful that finally somebody understood the point of this meeting.

"Ya need to live and breathe this stuff," The blacksmith spoke, and threw a rather heavy looking book on the table," The _Dragon Manual_. Everything we know about every dragon we've come across. I want it memorized by the end of the next week!" he said to the group.

Snotlout and Tuffnut had frightened expressions on their faces.

"You want us… to read?" Snotlout said while standing up.

"And… memorize?" Tuffnut whispered in a terrified whisper.

Fishlegs already had pulled the book near him, flapping the pages, and saying random dragon trivia, "There is one dragon that shoots acid and … and there is another one… I forgot the name, but it can bend its body like a ribbon and strangle you to death, and another one…,"

"Yeah that's cool, but can you um…. shut up!" Ruffnut asked politely.

"Why do we have to do this?" Tuffnut asked. Gobber took his helmet from the table and placed it on his head, "I d' not want t' hear any excuses! In seven days ya'll be singing that even in yer sleep! And if I catch anyone that's notlearning, I'll make sure that person cleans the path from the Kill Ring to the Mead Hall, every little rock! That's all for today!", The blacksmith said and headed towards the door.

The teens followed, talking loudly. Only Astrid and Hiccup were left.

Hiccup approached the book and asked hopefully, "We… we can read together if you wa…,"

"I've read it!" The blond girl answered coldly, and walked away quickly.

"G-great then, nothing better than to know a few things more, huh?" Hiccup said. Seeing Astrid disappear from his sight, he said louder, "It was nice talking to…,"

A loud sound of doors being shut followed, "You…," he finished quietly.

He looked away and saw one of the tower guards, who was eating dinner, quickly turn his head to the front. Hiccup sighed and finished his meal in silence.

After this, he took the book and went home.

* * *

Later at night, he was lying on his bed in his sleeping clothes, the room lit by an almost burned-out candle. He was staring at the ceiling listening to the rain rumbling on the roof, the manual opened on his chest.

He thought about trying to read that book again. He had read it six times already since it did not contain a lot of words, and surprisingly, there were no information on how to apologize to a dragon you've crippled or how to make a dragon forgive you. There was only a brief description of each dragon's abilities, a poorly drawn illustration of the dragon and the all-explaining label placed at the bottom of the page "Extremely dangerous, kill on sight".

The Night Fury page was quite simply empty; nobody knew how it looked or what its abilities were, blue fire bolts set aside. There were only a few lines written, advising that you should hide and pray it does not find you.

At this point, Hiccup knew more about Night Furies than all the previous generations of Vikings altogether.

He really wanted to help that dragon, but he was sure that showing himself to it now, without any plan, would end up with him as its next meal.

He turned on one side, placing the book on the floor near his notebook with the Night Fury sketch opened. If only there was something he could do that would show that he was sorry and would somehow make it up. He didn't know how he would do it, but he at least wanted to try. He would ask Fishlegs tomorrow; he seemed to know everything about dragons.

The lighting cut through the sky illuminating the crevices surrounding the shutters for a split second, drawing the rectangular shape of the window on the wall. Hiccup looked at the candle flame.

_I wonder if that dragon is all right in this rain_?, he thought and blew out the fire.

* * *

The loud thunder made Shade snap his eyes open, and his head jumped up in panic. Looking around, he gazed for a moment at the place where the human had sat. The wind whistled between the squeaking trees, and the grinding rain fell heavily, making the visibility low. Water drops spattered on the dragon's body. His sensitive ears listened to the storm that stifled everything else.

He altered his gaze and stood up on all fours, seeing black dots in front of his eyes from exhaustion and pain as he fought the still-present drowsiness. Slowly, he crawled to his usual hiding place, falling a few times on the way. His head was filled with a ringing pain, chest exploding from agony every time he tried to breathe. The only pain-free area on his body was the tip of his now numb tail.

Beneath his tree, he circled in one place and used his fire in its blue stream form. Careful not to pass out from the pain it was causing, he heated up the ground and lay down, curling on his uninjured left side. The bolt-hole glowed with orange light from the burning ground. Hissing sounds of evaporating water lulled the dragon to sleep. He was asleep before he even had a chance to think about today's events.

_The world was dark. The small flame came into existence and flickered unsteadily in the distance. Its colour was red. Like blood._

_The juvenile Shade observed the crimson-coloured fire from the cliff. It was pulsating, like it was alive: a heart thirsty for life, always wanting more, never satisfied, craving, feeling, burning. _

_Burn more! Higher! Let your tongue touch the sky, let there be no limits for you. Go! Consume everything on your path! _

_Now there were humans, countless bodies interlaced together, circling the flame, singing and laughing. The young dragon wanted to follow them, hypnotized by the fire. He wanted to join their ritual, but he looked at their faces. Instead of eyes, all of them had empty dark holes, their seemingly purely happy grinning faces were, in reality, an aeonian smile of the skull, their clothes ragged and full of holes. _

_They were dead; this was a dance of the humans he had seen dying. Their singing was getting stronger. They shouted to him, still smiling, and he could understand them. _

"_Join us!" _

"_Celebrate, for we are all dead! Join us while you can!"_

_The humans jumped into the quivering fire and were replaced by dragon's silhouettes; all of them killed by him. _

_Fire rose, making their shadows appear. Their bodies where now just phantoms. On the ground, the bone shades danced. They were roaring and howling their joy to him, flying, running and circling near the flame._

"_Join us!"_

"_Celebrate, for we are all dead! Join us while you can!"_

_They jumped into the fire and, again dragons figures appeared, now of his family and kin. _

_Screeches of joy filled his mind again. The young dragon did not want to listen to it, but he was mesmerized by the fire._

"_Join us!"_

"_Celebrate, for we are all dead! Join us while you can!"_

_They jumped into the fast beating fire._

_It continued growing until it was so large that it filled the horizon, reaching up to the stars. The young dragon trembled from excitement, feeling the waves of heat fill his body, making his blood circulate faster. All the feelings overwhelmed him, he enjoyed it, but the fire did not stop its growth. It was getting larger and larger, until it started to burn him._

_The feelings started to make him confused and lost. Sounds filled his mind, both human and dragon, full of emotions. They nailed his heart with every word and sound. _

_He felt hate. _

_He killed and destroyed._

_He felt guilt and he watched others die when he was powerless. _

_Those were not feelings he wanted. It was not what he desired. He didn't want any more of it, it was too much, it was burning him, changing his body into dust. Why would nobody help him? He was alone and scared._

"_Help me!" he roared desperately._

_And the voices and burning heat stopped. _

_There was no sound anymore. _

_The young dragon opened his eyes and saw a small human figure in front of him with hands outstretched and closed, holding something inside it. The human opened his hands, and there, was a crimson fire, pulsating and small, but brighter than before._

_Shade's heart. _

_It brought serenity and quietness to the dragon's mind. The human held his hands closer, as if offering it. The young dragon wasn't afraid. _

_He was happy. He jumped to catch the gift of heart-fire…_

Shade opened his eyes. It was morning already. Barely remembering his dream, he did still grasp the feeling from it, slowly fading away.

Just for a moment then, he really, really wished that somebody would help him now with a gift of the small but bright heart of the dragon youth he once was.

He fell asleep again and woke up later, not remembering the dream.

* * *

AN: Silly story time!

"Let me set things straight," Toothless the dragon said to Hiccup the human, who was sitting in front of him," you have read that Night Furies can change their forms into human's, but their wings are still present, _and_ it is mandatory that they are smaller and completely unusable? It's also mandatory that they have dark skin and dark hair? And an immense thirst to rape the nearest teenage male, right?"

Hiccup nodded and tossed an emo-perfectly long bang from his not-so-emo eyes and gulped some of the beer from the wooden mug.

Toothless snorted with contempt and took a sip through the big straw, drinking from the large bowl in front of him filled with his favourite fish guts mixed with a bit of mountain mint with a bamboo umbrella at the side which could easily be used to shelter a small family, " I won't even _dare _to ask about the last part, but since they can do anything with their...'dragon magic' why can Night Furies also not change their hair and skin colour?"

"It's just... magic... I guess," Hiccup said evenly.

"Humans" Toothless added another of his famous snorts, "And you say that you've read a book in which I do _what _again?" The Fury asked, not able to decide to be angry or to laugh.

"You impregnate me," Hiccup said, drinking much faster than he should. To talk about it he had to be drunk. Really drunk. And better fast.

"_And?_" Toothless asked, trying not to laugh.

"_And _you change me into a Fury," Hiccup took another mighty gulp of his blueberry infused wheat beer and gestured to the waitress to bring him another. The pub was pretty much full today. Toothless was not the only dragon around.

"Get to the best part already!" Toothless grinned, letting out a chuckle.

"Furies cannot decide if they should make their human mates a male or female dragon, so they tend to change the human-dragon's gender back and forth, depending on their mood," Hiccup said looking at the laughing and rolling Toothless, "It is not funny!" Hiccup shouted, chucking the book on its side.

"It is not?" Toothless let out through his dragon tears.

"Maybe a little... but don't you see the point? To write something like this... you need some logic... some sense of probability, character... atmosphere, not to mention the morality aspect!"

Toothless looked at Hiccup, rolling his eyes," That's why you are such a square Hiccup, you don't get the point of all this," He pointed with his tail at the pile of books with pink covers, all about Furies and their sexual adventures.

"And that would be?" Hiccup asked, pretending anger, but his eyes twinkling in laughter at Toothless' clever humour.

Toothless chuckled and gave a dragon purr of humour, "As long as there are people reading it, there will be people writing such things. And..."he slurped through the straw again," from my perspective, you humans are a seriously screwed-up species."

* * *

AN: I think I am the first one to write a psychotic dragon dream… I will leave that without any comments...

Please leave a review after reading. I really appreciate your input. Thank you.


	11. Out of Focus

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters etc.

AN: Another short chapter, sorry.

* * *

Hiccup's heavy steps sounded as he trudged down the stairs. He stopped near the supporting column and looked at the mounted, spotlessly polished shield hanging on it. He admired his reflection in it for a moment. He had dark rings under bloodshot, reddened eyes, and the skin of his face was unhealthily pale. He hated Mondays like that.

All he wanted to do was to go back to bed and sleep all through the rest of the week; it was the second night he hadn't gotten much of a shuteye.

Wobbling, he opened the door and went outside, the door slamming behind him.

It was time for a drastic measure.

There was the sound of something wooden opening and creaking. Next was the wet noise of something plunging into the water and Hiccup shouting "Oh Gods! Yes!" in a painful voice. The door swung back open, and there stood Hiccup with his head fully wet. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering loudly.

"T-t-that-ss what I n-n-e-eded," he said to himself.

He dried himself in front of the fire, feeling a bit refreshed, at least enough for his brain to function more or less properly. He had a distinct feeling that he would need it, when being chased by a dragon.

After a quick breakfast, he went to the Kill Ring, hoping to meet Fishlegs before the training. It was still early and the air was cold. Hiccup could see the vapor as he breathed out rapidly. He hid behind one of the large rocks on the path and took a peek at the Ring's door.

There was no sign of Snotlout, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. There was only Astrid practicing with a sword, and Fishlegs, sitting on one of the steps leading to the upper level reading a book. Hiccup relaxed, he would be able to talk to the sturdy teen about his "problem" without many… distractions.

The boy approached, trying to look self-confident and casual at the same time, but as he got nearer to the training girl, he felt his brain shut off. He found himself stopping in front of her with his mouth opened and his eyes staring vacantly.

Astrid was in the middle of a pirouette, when she spotted an extremely creepy-looking young man gazing at her. He had very red-rimmed, tired eyes with dark circles beneath them. His reddened cheeks were densely spotted with freckles, and there was a small cut on one of them. His open mouth displayed horse's teeth showing and lips curled in a stupid grin.

She almost shrieked in surprise, but she held herself back at the last second. Losing her balance, she had to stumble clumsily for a few steps before catching herself. After a moment she realized the "stranger" was Hiccup, but he looked so tired and sick that she had not recognized him at first. Come to think of it, she had never seen him up that close.

Her eyes softened, slightly pitying the haggard youth, but as soon as she noticed what part of her Hiccup seemed to be staring at she felt anger. Her breasts obviously had some magic power to attract the gaze of almost every male. In some things boys were exactly the same, no matter if they preferred lifting rocks or blowing up houses.

Hiccup, finally able to come out of his trance, ran his hand through his hair smiling sheepishly and looked at the sky.

"Nice weather, today! I really like these cold… and… wet mornings, makes you quite stiff… how about you…?" he looked in front of him, but there was nobody there, "Astrid?" he finished in a disappointed voice. After a moment, he saw her walking away with her sword on her shoulder.  
_Great job, Hiccup! The crowd is going mental_! He thought bitterly.

He approached Fishlegs. He was one of his only friends, or at least used to be, when they were small children. After a certain tragic incident had occurred in his life, Hiccup preferred to stay at home whenever he could. Fishlegs found new friends to hang out with, but he and Hiccup were never hostile to each other. They exchanged a few greetings from time to time, but that was all.

"Hi, Fishlegs," Hiccup greeted Fishlegs nervously.

"Hello, Hiccup," The larger boy answered cheerfully, closing the book on his lap and looking at Hiccup with interest. Hiccup planned everything carefully beforehand, so it would not sound suspicious or weird.

"Can I ask you something?" Hiccup said casually.

"Sure," Fishlegs answered with a smile on his round face. Hiccup noticed Astrid practicing again and he looked at her again.

"Do you know anything about injured Night Furies?" he said nonchalantly. Catching the mistake in this sentence, he added hastily, "I mean not injured...! What I meant was…Whole and healthy with their tummies full of fish, ok?" He breathed out, looking at Fishlegs intensely with widely opened eyes. This was giving him a murderous look. Apparently, lack of sleep and beautiful girls were not a good mix.

His friend did not seem to notice, "Furies eat fish?" Fishlegs asked hopefully.

Hiccup's expression became more thoughtful, "No… yes…," he glanced at his friend, "Wait! Yes?... I mean nobody knows, right?"

_Ingenious,Hiccup! _He ironically roared in his mind.

He chuckled nervously, getting more and more confused, but his friend was already in his own world.

"If they eat fish that'd explain why they're not interested in sheep or chicken, but one theory states that the Furies are distant cousins of the Howling Rippers, one of the sea dragons. There are some theories that these dragons are not really sea dragons but in fact land dragons that can breathe underwater. And they have these large, sabre like claws that are giving them 'plus ten to attack' and… and their wings are small so they can't really fly, but they have these flying fins on their legs…" Fishlegs was continuing his talk until Gobber called.

"C'mon, you lot!" He looked around, "Not everybody here yet, I see. Never mind, you'll help me t' prepare th' stage."

Hiccup was nodding to Fishlegs and trying to listen, but he got lost after another story about dragon that ate some type of grass that was poisonous to a farmer's life-stock, and the theory about coexistence between dragons and humans that came with it.

After Gobber called, he panicked about running out of time and placed his hands on Fishleg's shoulders.

"Do you know anything about Night Furies?" He asked, looking into his friend's eyes.

Fishlegs thought for a moment, "No, sorry… but I know a lot about one dragon…"

"Thanks, Fishlegs," Hiccup sighed and walked through the opened door. Fishlegs just shrugged his shoulders, took his book, and followed.

Inside, Astrid and Gobber were already pushing something that looked like a wooden wall, around seven elbows high and fifteen elbows wide, each on four small wheels. Hiccup was surprised to see it, but before he could say anything Gobber shouted.

"What are ya waitin' for? Ya can rest when yer dead!"

"Which may happen pretty soon," Hiccup whispered.

"I heard that! Now get yer sarcastic butt here, and start workin'!" The blacksmith yelled, pointing his hook at the scrawny teen.

Hiccup sighed and moved towards Astrid, ready to help. The blond girl stopped her work and glared dangerously at the boy. Hiccup immediately turned and walked away to help Fishlegs, trying to make it look as casual as possible. He was not doing a good job with it.

Gobber started pushing with Astrid, shouting commands and directing the task.

The twins and Snotlout eventually arrived, laughing about who knows what. Gobber eyed them, did not drop a hint about their being late, and just told them to start working. The group joined, and setting up the walls went almost without any incidents. The twins did start fighting over such existential matters like, _to push or to not to push_ the wall, and Snotlout was beaten up by Astrid after yet another try at impressing-slash-helping her.

Hiccup looked with satisfaction at Snotlout lying on the ground, moaning and holding his groins. However, the small youth himself sometimes felt terrified by the ways in which Astrid expressed her independence.

After they were finished, the group gathered and looked at the wooden walls connected together by the chain on their top.

"Beautiful, isn' it? Gobber said, placing his hand on the stand with shields and weapons on it, among them Hiccup's axe, that he had left here after yesterday's training.

"What, exactly, is beautiful? It looks like-" Ruffnut begun.

"A maze," Astrid finished.

"Yeah, a maze," Ruffnut repeated, yawning.

"Really? I thought we were doing some muscle exercise, never enough of those beauties!" Snotlout said with undivided pride, flexing his bicep and looking at it with unveiled satisfaction.

Tuffnut, standing close to him, nodded and mimicked his friend: "Yeah, same here!" Both of them laughed wholeheartedly.

"So, what now?" Astrid asked, looking repellently at the beaming boys.

Gobber did not answer at once. He played with his moustache at first, and a malevolent smirk bloomed on his face. Hiccup allowed himself a sigh, getting himself ready for what was coming.

"Today kiddies, we're gonna learn about a new dragon and, more importantly, about attacking, using terrain to yer advantage, t' hide or t' strike sneakily. The thing ya've built, is not really a maze, since there ar' no dead ends- not today at least," Gobber smiled.

Hiccup sighed again.

Gobber took one of the shields from the stand, "Do ya notice anythin' new 'bout these shields?", he asked the group, holding the shield by its rim. Hiccup knew the answer to that question even without taking a closer look at them; he was not a blacksmith apprentice for nothing. He could have answered, but was too timid to do it in front of a group where everyone either hated him, did not care about him or weresnubbing him. He incidentally praised himself for making others able to experience such a wide range of feelings towards him.

"They are bigger," Astrid stated with voice full of confidence, "There are several layers of dragon skin on them instead of just one, and they look more… sturdy."

Hiccup would have added that they also had three layers of wood. The bottom one was made from oak to make it tougher and other two were made from the softer ash tree to help absorb the impact. Rivets that joined the layers were hidden beneath the dragon skins; some dragons had fire so hot that it could melt iron immediately. Hiccup knew all that, because some of these shields he had made personally.

"Very good, Astrid! Take a shield and yer weapons now, lot!" Gobber said happily.

The teens equipped themselves and Gobber continued, "Today, your party host will be the Deadly Nadder! I'm sure all of ya knows its abilities and weaknesses by now since you all have read th' manual!" He eyed the group, "If not… I believe in learning on the job!" He finished cheerfully, leaving the arena and going upstairs above the Nadder's cage.

Holding his hand on the lever he bellowed, "I forgot t' mention something, younglings! This dragon is not completely normal in the head! Better start running now! Have fun!"

He pushed down the handle.

After this heart-warming comment, the group scattered.

The only one left was Hiccup, who was lying on the ground. This time, he was not in such a position because of his clumsiness, but because his cousin had 'accidently' pushed him to the ground and was now running away, snickering. Hiccup lay for a moment, contemplating the many ways of killing his tormentor.

He was envisioning a scene involving one rusty needle and a very dull knife, when he heard the heavy steps of something big approaching. He jumped on his feet, grabbed his helmet from the ground and put it on. He ran into the pseudo maze, hiding behind one of the walls.

Panting, he turned his head and looked at the passage he had entered. There was no sign of anyone else. The heavy thuds came nearer, the dragon was about to turn into the very corridor where Hiccup was hiding. The boy's eyes widened in fear, and his sweaty palm grabbed the shield's handle tighter. Hiccup could see the dragon's shadow in front of the entrance; it moved closer and stopped. And squawked quietly. Then, it moved away and chose a path parallel to the youth.

The teen was trying to ease his slamming heart and heavy breathing, when there was a loud cracking sound. At the beginning of the wall in front of him, a sharp tip of one of the Nadder's quills stuck out.

Hiccup looked in horror as the quill started moving with an incredibly loud scraping sound, cutting through the wood and getting closer and closer to Hiccup. The Nadder must have been using one of the outstretched quills on its tail to do this. When it got near his face, the boy was about to step away.

Suddenly it slipped away to the other side, leaving the teen alone.

Hiccup breathed out quietly, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

_Wham!_

The same quill shot out from the wall just in front of the boy's eyes. He stared at it for a second and then started running away, screaming.

Behind him, he heard an amused Nadder's squawk.

_Oh Gods, if that dragon is not laughing now, I'm not called the Horrendous Toothpick_! Hiccup thought, running away as fast as he could.

He then heard Tuffnut and Ruffnut scream behind him and Gobber's entertained-sounding voice.

"You should've read about the Nadder's blind spot! Good luck next time!" He chuckled.

Hiccup changed his running course and sprinted in Gobber's direction. The dragon seemed to be busy with the others on the opposite side of the ring, judging from the Nadder's happy squawking. It was an excellent opportunity to ask Gobber a few questions about the Night Fury.

Panting, he came close to the wall on which the blacksmith was standing, leaning on one of the chains lazily, and watching the screaming trainees with very little interest.

"Gobber!" Hiccup breathed out. The blacksmith looked at the boy and answered with his usual greeting and question: 'What I can do for you?", all in one word. Must have taken years of practice.

"Mmmm?" Gobber uttered, picking his teeth with his finger. Hiccup did not have time for these elaborate word games with a crazy dragon on the loose.

"I couldn't find in the book anything about how to approach a Night Fury. Do you know anything more about it?" Hiccup cried out.

Gobber stopped checking his fingernails for any findings and turned his attention to the teen, looking annoyed.

"Nobody has ever seen the dragon, now get back in there, already!"

"Is there any other book I could read with information about Night Furies?" Hiccup asked persistently, not noticing a few teens had just run past him.

Gobber's expression changed to terrified, and he shouted, "Hiccup!"

The boy looked in the direction from where the runners came and saw the Nadder breathing out a yellow fireball—at him.

In a split-second decision, he crouched, hiding himself fully behind the shield, only his axe head sticking out. He felt the strong push on the shield, felt the hot air on the sides, but he remained fine.

_The Nadder's fire is not so strong as I tho.. oh shit_! He stopped his thoughts abruptly, looking at the half melted metal handle of his axe. It was all that remained.

The axe-head was in the form of silver liquid now, bubbling on the ground. He did not need a better demonstration of what that fire could do to a human. He looked behind him; the Nadder jumped gracefully into the wall top and ran after him like this with unfolded wings, perfectly keeping its balance.

Hiccup was about to pass Astrid and Snotlout. The blond model of utter perfection and swiftness was getting ready to throw her axe at the balancing dragon when she was stopped by the outstretched hand of the model of utter cretinism and show-offism.

Snotlout grinned at Astrid and tried to look as manly as possible, "Watch, babe. _This_ is how it should be done", he said in his deepest voice.

The wind suddenly blew, making his super-oily hair stick out from under the helmet, waving in the air. Hiccup was not looking where he was running and slammed lightly against his cousin, bringing Snotlout back to reality.

Astrid did not notice. She was busy getting herself ready for the dragon. It stopped in front of them, still on the top of the wall, looking at this situation with interest. Snotlout turned to the dragon and launched his hammer with a battlecry. It passed by the Nadder's head. The dragon was preening its wing, not even honoring the weapon with a glance.

The dragon looked back at Snotlout and raised an eyebrow like saying, "Is that all you got?"

Snotlout, feeling insulted by how this dragon dared treat him like a second-rate warrior, rushed to the weapon stand, took the largest axe there and repeated the throwing sequence. This time it flew perfectly in the direction of the dragon's head. Hiccup's eyes widened as he observed this partially hidden behind the wall and Astrid gasped quietly.

The axe was about to hit, when the dragon bent its head to the side, its muzzle bearing the most bored expression possible. Then it let out some humorous squawks at the now raging teen. Snotlout, with a yell, started throwing every weapon and shield he got his hands on.

The dragon, to Hiccup's complete amazement, was jumping, crouching, slashing its tail at the incoming projectiles, and not getting hit by any.

Snotlout was breathing heavily now, veins pulsating on his temples, red on the face and loudly grinding his teeth together.

The dragon just finished an excellently performed pirouette and landed on the wall top on one leg with wings outstretched, squawking proudly.

Hiccup found himself almost clapping.

Snotlout grabbed a very large hammer and hissed out, "What, do you say _now_, you stupid brainless overgrown bird?"

There was a whipping sound as the dragon lashed its tail in a movement too fast to see, and a sound of something metallic hitting the ground followed.

"Huh?" Snotlout said intelligently, and he looked at his hand. The only thing remaining of his weapon was a tiny end of the handle. The rest had been cut off clean by the quill, right where his fingers began. The dragon's missile was now deeply bored into the wall behind the teen.

Astrid and Hiccup were long gone from the scene, and it probably would have ended badly for Snotlout if it was not for Fishlegs, who also threw his weapon in the Nadder's direction from the side. The dragon's tail whipped behind him, deflecting the weapon.

Fishlegs made a decision to start running away and screamed, "I no longer like the teaching methods here!"

The dragon followed him, emitting joyful squawks, again shooting quills at Fishlegs and seeming to appreciate the boy's terrified yelling.

Meanwhile, Hiccup was doing a terrific job of hiding by standing in the middle of an empty passage, looking around nervously. Astrid hid herself neatly behind one of the corners, crouching with one leg on the ground and covering her body behind the shield, close to the unfortunate chap.

She happened to have a companion as well, one who started haunting her again and talking behind her. She could feel and, more importantly, smell his breath on her neck.

"Have you seen how close I was to killing that Nadder?" Snotlout continued his monologue," Of course it was lucky it escaped alive. Ouch! I trained too much yesterday and my muscles feel sore," he started rubbing his chest with one hand, affectionately muttering, "It's OK… daddy will take care of you later… give you a good massage."

Astrid was not paying attention to the smelly teen but was looking from behind the corner into the empty corridor, the dragon's steps coming closer. Fishleg's screams must have become tedious to the Nadder, so it had jumped to the ground to find another victim.

She wanted to launch herself at the incoming dragon and kill it by surprise, but one boy, who was presenting himself openly in the middle of the dragon's path andmaking himself look like a please-eat-me –as-you-stand menu item, was making it impossible. Fighting with her conscience, she gave up and hissed to the scrawny youth, "Hiccup!"

The teen turned his attention to the blond girl, looking scared. Astrid gestured for him to come closer and crouch near her; she did not want to have a dead boy on her account only because she did not advise him to hide better.

Hiccup approached and crouched obediently. Snotlout looked at this with a clearly threatening grimace. Hiccup gulped, but felt happy being so close to the girl of his dreams. Her hair was so close to his face he could smell the aroma of mint and other herbs.

Luckily for his body's condition, Astrid was busy taking a small rock from the ground and casting it with a high lob, aiming behind the approaching Nadder. The rock hit the floor perfectly, diverting the dragon's attention. Astrid gave a gesture and rolled to the other side. Snotlout seamlessly followed, not forgetting to bash against Hiccup.

The remaining boy took a quick peek at the seemingly amused dragon occupied nudging the rock with its muzzle. Gathering his courage, Hiccup rolled. His mind told him it was a bad idea, which certainly was, in his case. As he rolled, the shield preferred to stay on the ground and not to follow his body movements. His arm dropped and the shield clanked loudly on the ground.

Hiccup immediately stood up and started sprinting away, just in time, as the fiery breath of the Nadder burned the place where he had been a split second ago. The dragon lunged out from the alley and followed the boy. At the sharp turn, its claws grated on the stones and it hit the wall hard, unable to stop in time. It got up almost instantly, roaring loudly in annoyance.

_Great, now it is pissed. Way to go, Hiccup! _The boy thought, sprinting as he heard the beast behind him.

He swayed to the nearest alley. The dragon again had problems with turning itself, hitting the wooden wall. It started collapsing after the impact. The other parts of the maze connected by the chain started to fall as well.

As he ran, Hiccup heard Astrid's scream from above. Looking up, he saw her climb the collapsing wall, just escaping from being crushed by another one behind. She jumped with her axe in one hand and landed on the boy.

Hiccup had dreamt quite often about their first touch, but he had _never_ expected it to be with her knees slamming against his chest and with her axe deeply thrust in his shield. And he did have a very good imagination. Stupefied, Hiccup shook his head and saw shocked, blue eyes staring into his, some of her blond hair tickling his face.

"Be gentle with her, Hiccup!" Tuffnut yelled, looking at the scene from the rubble behind which he hid. Ruffnut, next to him, laughed and punched her brother, expressing her joy as well.

This magical moment ended as fast as it began with the angry dragon drawing close.

Astrid stood up and tried to remove her weapon from the buckler, using Hiccup's face as a support for her foot. Hiccup tried to say something and move his hand free from the shield, but the boot on his face prevented him from doing neither.

The Nadder was close to them, rushing and opening its maw. With a yell, Astrid yanked the axe, still bored into the shield, from Hiccup's hand and thrashed it hard on the dragon's head, breaking the buckler.

The Nadder, confused from the hit, took a few steps back and gave out a disappointed screech.

Gobber slid down agilely on the rope, hanging from the one of the ceiling chains. He approached the dragon and jostled it lightly on the side with his axe. The Nadder shook its head and then averted it, looking at Astrid and issuing a prolonged hiss. After that, it walked to its cage under Gobber's observant eye, glaring from time to time at the girl.

After the cage door closed, Astrid turned to the boy on the ground, lying on his stomach, hands on his head in his favourite protective gesture.

"Is this some kind of a joke to you?" She yelled. She was furious and her tolerance for Hiccup's actions had just expired. The teen looked up at the girl with a scared expression.

"Do you think that we are here to play?" The girl hissed furiously, "Or that you can fool around, run and scream like an idiot, completely unfocused and not paying attention? Each of us could've died today because of you! Can you not get it through your thick skull?" Astrid lifted her axe and held it in front of Hiccup's face, "Do you want to fight the dragons or not? Pick the side you're on!"

Hiccup looked with a shocked expression as Astrid walked away smartly. He felt hurt by her remarks, as always accurate and truthful, but mostly he just felt very guilty and wished for this day to end already.

"Gather around, lot!" Gobber boomed, approaching. The teens got together around their teacher. The blacksmith removed the axe attachment from his arm stump, placing it behind his belt with a sigh. He fastened on the hook.

"I won't even start 'bout today's performance or I'll get a headache. Tomorrow at dawn, I want to see all of ya on the Hill with yer shields, helmets and the weapons of yer choice. We will have a combat training. Ya all seem to need it, except for Astrid. Take example from her!" He said pointing his hook into the girl's direction. She was leaning against the wall, looking angry, not seeming to care about the praise she had just received.

"That's all for today!" Gobber shouted. The group started to leave with Astrid leading and walking as fast as she could, "But not for you Snotlout, Ruffnut and Tuffnut!"

The named teens turned, looking confused.

"As a sign of our blazin' friendship an' th' forever present cooperation, I'm presenting you with this amazing opportunity to clean the arena," Gobber said gesturing at the pile of debris behind them.

"Wha..? But why us when the others are going home?" Snotlout bellowed.

"Because ya were late, that's why!" Gobber called out, walking over to the teens with a dangerous expression on his face. All the youths seemed to shrink a bit as the blacksmith stared at them.

"Ya **_will_** clean this mess, and ya **_will_** do it today, even if it takes ya all night. Understood?"

Teens nodded furiously.

"Excellent!" Gobber's face was beamish again," Ya've tools behind the t'doors at the bottom right. I'll be back in th' evenin' to check on ya!"- Gobber finished cheerfully and walked to the exit.

* * *

Hiccup sprinted on the bouldered path, small rocks crunching beneath his moving feet. He passed Fishlegs, who was slowly walking towards the village. Hiccup shouted some excuse that he did not have time to talk right now. He had something more important to do.

He saw in the distance the figure with hair glittering like gold, walking on the hill. He quickened his pace, following. Soon, he was in earshot reach.

"Astrid!" He shouted, seeing the girl's back in front of him. He was sure that she had heard him. She moved with rushed steps and did not seem like she wanted to stop. He did not expect a different reaction. Hiccup rushed past the blond teen, feeling he could not run any longer and praying he would not stumble and fall.

Hiccup stumbled. And fell.

Breathing deeply after a long run, he lifted his head expecting to hear a malicious remark. There was no anticipated comment, just the girl standing in front of the sprawled out boy, looking at him with an angry expression.

Hiccup stood up and tried to brush off dirt off his clothes. Astrid remained still, standing with her arms crossed on her chest, her axe strapped across her back with a leather belt.

"Listen, I just wanted to say…," Hiccup said between his breaths.

"That you're sorry? That you feel guilty about what happened?" Astrid answered in what appeared a calm voice, not letting him finish.

"Well… yeah," Hiccup agreed in a weak voice.

Astrid flicked her head, making the light-haired wisp of hair float away from her eye. It was always a futile effort, but it was something she did out of habit.

"And? Would you say the same to the corpses? Or to the other trainees that could've become disabled - if they were lucky? Would _they_ feel better? Would they say 'it's all right, we forgive you'? But what can you possibly know about it, you ar-"

"I DO know!" Hiccup screamed in angry guilt. Astrid jerked internally, but did not show anything on the outside. She was shocked by the power that these words carried. She looked at him, stunned. He had never shouted like that, never before.

Hiccup stood, fists clenched, looking at the ground. He still looked like the scrawny, unobtrusive boy he always was, but yet...

Astrid was pulled out from her thoughts by Hiccup's now calm voice.

"I just wanted to say 'sorry'… that's all," he said and ran down the hill, not looking behind.

Astrid felt a sting of guilt for a moment, but reason won quickly over it. The boy had to learn about the consequences the hard way, the Viking way.

* * *

Hiccup poured water on the hot granite rocks. It hissed and changed into vapor, increasing the temperature in the sauna. Their sauna was behind The Haddock's house, near the woods; nobody walked back there beside Hiccup .It had a typical build Vikings used: small compartment with two benches, one placed lower and one higher. The only difference was that the space at the front door, leading to the sauna where you would take off your clothes and put them on later, was rather large.

Inside there was a big wooden tub with cold water. Normally, others would go outside to pour buckets of cold water on themselves, but Hiccup had insisted on the tub so he would not have to go outside. Stoick did not oppose that. The sauna was good for the boy's lungs, after all. It was not because of feeling cold or being embarrassed about walking naked.

The reasons were completely different. Hiccup did not want to show his body to anyone, now that it looked like a gruesome exhibit. He slapped his deeply scarred back again with a leafy birch twig. It helped with opening the skin pores and cleaning the body.

He thought deeply, inhaling the hot air through his mouth. Most of his thoughts included a rather unfortunate dragon.

_It must be very hungry right now, _Hiccup reasoned, listening to the droplets falling off his body and the sounds of the charcoal cracking in the stove. He could not come up with a better idea than to try and feed the dragon. He had seen it trying to catch something in the pond. He guessed that it must have been a fish.

He would have gone there with a basket full of them, if he were be sure that it would not end up with him in the form of small burning debris flying around. That dragon was mad at him, and Hiccup knew that it had wanted to kill him back then. However, the dragon had spared him two times already. As much as he wanted to believe it was just a coincidence, he could not. The more he considered it, the more he was fascinated by that creature.

Hiccup was now sitting in the wash tub, leaning against its wooden rim, letting his body cool down. Even though his body was getting colder, his mind was heating up. He could not stand this rising agitation any longer. Hiccup got out from the tub and rubbed aloe oil onto his burn scars hastily. He did it almost every day. It prevented his skin from the constant itching and hurting the burns had left behind.

Afterwards, he dressed himself and opened the door. The cool, fresh, grass-scented air hit him. It was evening already, and the sun was disappearing behind the horizon, reddish rays shining through the trees. He still wore his dirty clothes, but that was fine. He had to make another late escapade into the woods and he would get them even more soiled.

* * *

Shade observed, hidden in the darkness behind a rock, as fish went flying through the small clearing where he had seen the human yesterday.

They hit the ground with delicious squishy sounds, filling the air with a smell that was making the dragon drool. He kept himself hidden, waiting for the human to show up. This time, instead of anger, he felt a rising curiosity about this particular weedy pup. In addition, he felt loads of confusion why any human would go out in the evening, just to throw some fish into a pit with his mortal enemy in it.

The first reason why this human would, could be because he simply wanted to feed the dragon. Shade also considered the possibility that the human might want to poison him or just prolong his sufferings. As much as he wanted to believe in poison or cruelty, the first thought was winning out.

The last fish struck the ground and there were headlong steps of a human running, disappearing in the distance.

The sleek body of the dragon emerged from the shadows and limped slowly, without the usual grace, to the food scattered on the grass. Unable to resist the instinct, he started devouring them one after another, barely chewing.

Having finished, he sniffed the area, searching if he missed any. The amount of food was not even close to satisfying his hunger, but he felt more energy than before.

Smacking his lips, Shade walked slowly to the lake to drink. He did not trust the human at all, but this gesture preoccupied his thoughts and he could not stop thinking that the human wanted to help him. The question was why? The human shot him down and now wanted to help him? It might have been some kind of human twisted logic.

_I shouldn't delude myself with false hopes, it is becoming an irritating habit of mine,_ Shade reflected, curling in his den behind the tree.

_If that human ever came back, it would only be a creation of my imagination caused by starvation. I can already see him with a large fish in his tiny paws as an offer. Like that is going to happen_! Amused by this thought, he closed his eyes.

He imagined the human again, but instead of the fish the human held for some reason a small red flame in his hands.

Shade's heart softened bit from its rocky shell as he tried to keep away the feeling that he wanted to see the small human again. Shade had been alone for most of his life, and he never imagined that he would feel… lonely again.

He had convinced himself that he did not need anyone. The urge to be with others had been replaced by hatred and anger. The shell around his heart was strengthening and hardening with time, until one day he felt that he not only did not wish to change it, but that he did not _need_ to change it. He did not feel loneliness. He stopped sensing it altogether. There was only this feeling of something heavy in his heart, but he just adapted to it, like always.

_Tell yourself a lie ninety nine times and after the hundredth it will became the truth, huh_? Shade pondered letting his mind drift into the void.

* * *

AN: The following Silly Story is sponsored by the Random Online Dictionary, the Plank's constant, and the letter X. Why X? Why not?

Few words from me. Today's story will be spoofing the One Shots and some stories I noticed on the site. However, I strongly want to stress that there are One Shots that are great and absolutely worth praising. And remember this is a Silly Story. Have fun.

* * *

"We humans? A screwed-up species?" Hiccup laughed, "Look who's talking! Mister All-High-and-Mighty, but these stories are all about _you_! People need to get these ideas from somewhere, right? Well, _look_ at you: all claws and fangs... perfect teen-raping material!" He said teasingly.

Toothless raised his eyebrow.

"Then I would watch out if I were you," The Fury said grinning dangerously.

"I'm already trembling in fear... and, sorry, but I've beeninto Zipplebacks lately, "Hiccup muttered and took another book from the pile.

"You mean the so called toxic love?"Toothless grinned, but noticing his friend abandoned their teasing game, he huffed disappointedly, "Are you going to read _again_?"

"I'm already doing it, Toothless," Hiccup said nonchalantly, flipping the pages and closed the book, "All right, I am done."

"So fast? It was a large-looking book," Toothless mused.

"Ah, it'ss a book called "_One-shots: How to Write a Story in 300 Words and How Not Spell-Checking Your Story Can Increase The Reading Experience_."

Toothless closed his mouth on the straw in a sluggish motion and slurped as loud as he could, thus getting a female Terror resting on the shoulder of the man sitting behind them to hiss," Oy, watch it, m-!"

"Mate?" Toothless said flirtingly, "Not yet, beautiful!"

The Terror huffed indignantly, and turned her head away.

"Your demonstrations on how to let your Rider know that you're bored are getting better and better Toothless! Next time, try pretending you'ree a puppy," Hiccup said ironically, reading another book.

"Will do," Toothless promised, mimicking the tone.

"Anyway, _this_ is fascinating!" Hiccup said excitedly and he gulped his beer again," Even though these stories have only 300 words or less, they're still a challenge to read. The spelling mistakes are like caltrops on a battlefield! You manage to get past them undamaged, just to be struck by the sudden fire of bad grammar! And this is not the end of it!" Hiccup's eyes sparkled with excitement, and he pointed his finger at Toothless, that did everything to make his "_We-are-not-amused_ expression," After the story you can _even_ contemplate about the improbable plot or how such characters could exist! It is amazing how much brain-cracking activity you can offer in just 300 words! Or less!

"For most of my life I thought that in 300 words, or less, you could maybe only write an introduction or a brief description! But here... wow! You can actually write a whole story!" Hiccup beamed, clearly expecting Toothless to share his joy.

The dragon rolled his eyes and tried to humour his rider.

"I don't know much about human literature beside Marry had a Little Lamb, and then only because of the lamb part. I originally thought it was about hunting. Considering your argument, I feel that there is something... something seems wrong in your logic... I just can't get my paw on it."

"I'd have expected you to appreciate art... dragons," Hiccup snorted, trying to mimic his dragon. Toothless's expression did not change as he slurped loudly again.

The Terror hissed louder than before, "Mind stoppin' that?"

"I am so sorry, my lady," Toothless said like he actually wanted to apologise, then added nonchalantly, "Would you happen to have any female friends that are um... bigger?"

Hiccup could have sworn that the Terror's muzzle became redder at these words, and after a moment, Toothless's muzzle was hit with a small flame.

Hiccup laughed loudly, "You and your smooth talks, Toothless. Never cease to amaze me."

"Shut up. At least I try. I don't just drool over a female, looking at her from afar- like _some_ humans I know."

They eyed each other for a moment.

"Fine!" Hiccup finally admitted, "Well, getting back to the book discussion, there's more!"  
"More?" Toothless snorted with pure contempt, "What a surprise!"

Hiccup cleared his throat, "Writers use something called Point of View (also known as POV) to inform the reader who will tell the story now. I honestly have no idea why, since it is like insulting a reader's intelligence. Do you know why, Toothless?"

The Fury sighed, trying to clean soot from his muzzle with a forepaw, "No, I do not know why. Would you please mind telling me O Master Hiccup?"

"Because it does not matter! Even in fairy tales you do not use this Point of View heading... again, I find myself amazed what people can create." Toothless nodded eagerly with his puppy eyes.

"You don't understand it, do you?" Hiccup said.

"Yes!" Toothless said happily," But I hope that if I concede you will stop talking... I noticed that some human males use the same trick on human females." He made his gummy smile.

Hiccup was about to lash his ironical retort, when the Terror's human partner stood up and tossed a few coins on the table. His dragon hopped down near Toothless and whispered something into his ear.

After they left, Toothless gave out a victorious smile.

"Oooh, I know this smile," Hiccup said," You're going to say something that will leave me humiliated."

Toothless puffed his chest.

"Just a few words Hiccup. It seems I'll be leaving you for the evening." He said getting up and stretching, "You just sit here and have fun with your... '_One-Shots'_."

Hiccup sent him a hateful glare, "Talking about One-Shots, are you sure you are up for tonight?" He asked seriously.

Toothless laughed freely in his low draconic laughter, "You can cry all you want, nothing will waste my mood now...see you later, then!"

Saying that, he trotted outside, humming happily.

Hiccup remained alone and sipped his beer.

"Big deal... I could do the same," He muttered to himself, furiously browsing through the book. He stopped and thought for a moment.

"And _who_ will pay for the drinks?"

* * *

Reviews are much appreciated as usual. Thank you.


	12. Gestures

**AN: **The character changes are clearly visible now, compared to the movie. The Hiccup in my fic has some warrior qualities about himself. It is his heritage, something he is, and there is much more to a warrior than just his arm strength.

I have to admit it pains me to see Hiccup in some fics portrayed as a victim or some hopeless emo boy. The Berk Vikings live under the constant stress of dying. They do not have time to be emo. Emo is a modern concept, and it's born of a society where we are lucky to have food, shelter and medical care. We have the luxury where we can indulge in the emo type of thinking. I respect that emo fanfiction is a valid and good genre of fanfiction, but I also think it is important to also balance these out with fan fictions highlighting Hiccup's courage. Hiccup shows that a person who is small and weak looking still can be a great warrior in spirit.

Hiccup is alienated not because he was emotionally weak and fearful, but because he proved himself destructive to the community with his constant attempts to kill a dragon, which instead resulted in destroying the village and endangering other people. The movie, also, made clear that Hiccup was not an emo victim. He was as brave as the other Vikings, but his smaller physique put him at a disadvantage in dragon fighting and dragon training. He also did not feel sorry for himself for the most part- rather tried to invent something that would help him solve the problem at hand. And, with Toothless, he proved he could be quite the daredevil.

The bond with Toothless allowed Hiccup to finally show others the courage that they could not see before. Unlike his Viking brethren, he was able to use compassion rather than violence to accomplish heroic deeds. We all should take example from Hiccup's determination and ability to try again, no matter how many times he has fallen.

Please do not hurt this amazing character by stripping him of his wonderful qualities like courage, a brilliant mind, determination, empathy and a great big heart.

As always, please read and review.

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks

* * *

It was daybreak and the air above the small meadow lying under the mountainside was filled with stomping sounds, rumbling of rocks and the quickened breathing of people. One person was sticking out from the morning choir producing a harsh wheezing sound.

"Faster, Hiccup! You're breathin' like you're 'bout t' die!" Gobber shouted at the scrawny teen, who was barely shuffling along.

Hiccup was in the middle of his tenth warm up lap around the grassy field, carrying a large basket filled with rocks on his back. The teen was too busy maintaining his breathing, feeling like his lungs were on fire, to reply with an acute sarcastic comment.

Gobber scratched his chin, looking at the boy who seemed he would stumble and fall at any moment.

The blacksmith was pleasantly surprised. First, at the beginning of the training, Hiccup had lifted and placed a basket on his back without any help or his usual complaining, and he was doing not so bad afterwards. He even managed to lead for a short time, but after the ninth lap, he suddenly weakened and was now wobbling behind the group.

The others were now resting on the ground after finishing the tenth, and last, circle.

For a boy who almost never had any battle training in his life mainly because of an overprotective father, Hiccup was not doing so badly, in Gobber's opinion.

Hiccup finished and let the basket fall on the ground with a heavy thud.

"All right, lot! Enough of this nap! Take yer weapons an' shields, we will practice the weapon techniques now!" Gobber's voice echoed throughout the place. He looked at Hiccup, ready to hear his usual snarky remark, but the teen did not say anything as he started preparing for the next task.

Except for Astrid, who didn't look tired at all, the rest of the group grumpily took their shields, helmets and weapons lying on the ground in the shade of a large boulder. Astrid had her usual axe. Snotlout was taking out a long sword from a dark red dragon skin scabbard. It had a simple cross guard, red coloured grip, a circular pommel with a dragon head engraved on it, and a crimson blade. Fishlegs had a large hammer as long as his arm. It was silverish, including the handle, which had a brown cord wrapped on it. Ruffnut and Tuffnut had their favourite double-edged spears, and Hiccup was holding a dagger; it was his preferred weapon and he did not want to risk destroying more of the family axes, swords or hammers. The axe his father gave him was already only a liquefied memory.

Gobber took his own large basket, filled with wooden and metal weapons and paced in front of the aligned group. Without a word, he took the spears from Tuffnut's and Ruffnut's hands and gave them old-looking sabres.

"Why can't we use our own weapons?" Ruffnut asked, looking at the rusty edges of the weapon.

"This looks like shit," Tuffnut hinted delicately.

Gobber did not stop his march and again, in silence, took the dagger from Hiccup's palm. Looking judgingly at the teen's arm he took out a small sword from his basket and handed it to the boy.

The blacksmith knew his reasoning and he was not going to share it with somebody who was treating the training like a joke.

Fighting with double-edged weapons required the twins to use both hands, and since they were going to train with a shield, using the spears would just be a waste of time. In Hiccup's case, his dagger was a very poor choice. Even for a very experienced Viking fighter, killing a dragon with a dagger would be an arduous task. Gobber knew Hiccup's strength and how much he could lift now. A small sword should be an adequate weapon for the first time.

"Look what Hiccy got! A kid's toy! Maybe he needs a diaper change now?" Snotlout cried out, grabbing his helmet with one hand and laughing, pointing his finger at the scrawny teen. Ruffnut and Tuffnut joined in.

The blacksmith, with a stoic expression, turned and marched to the laughing, spasming Snotlout. The twins, noticing their instructor approach, stopped their burst of happiness and eyed him with rising fear. Gobber passed them, not even taking a glance, and stopped in  
front of Snotlout.

The laughter died slowly in the teen's throat. Snotlout was dense, but even he knew when danger was coming. Nevertheless, the blacksmith did not do anything. He put his hand on Snotlout's tunic and carefully straightened the wrinkles on it. Hiccup realized in that moment that his mentor and friend could also be a terrifying man without saying a single word or using violence.

Gobber used to be one of the best warriors who fought along aside Stoick and now this was clearly seen. After making sure Snotlout's collar was perfectly calibrated, Gobber stood in front of the group. He took out an axe attachment from behind his belt and while fastening it to the arm stump, he started talking quietly. He did not need toraise his voice, the surrounding silence was perfect.

"I guess it was a big mistake to be so easy on ya. It still appears that some of ya do not understand why we have this training in the first place. Ya think it's so easy to catch a dragon, imprison it in the small cage and let the younglings fight it and have only a few casualties?" Gobber asked, looking at the novices' faces.

Nobody answered, though.

"I don't know if ya've noticed, but ya can actually die here. It was clearly shown during yesterday's training."

The blacksmith was not pointing at anyone or raising his voice, but Hiccup felt his face burning from shame. He would have preferred at that moment to be yelled at. It would be more bearable.

The silence still continued.

"Since ya've stopped yer mental development at the age of five, ya shall be treated accordingly. I do not like training you... I _really _don't!" Gobber started walking in front of the aligned and rigid teens, looking each in the eyes deeply.

"But I was asked to do it, and I will do my best t' make ya learn something here. Dragons ar' not th' only enemy ya might be facin'. Everything ya will learn here is for yer own, and more importantly, for others' good!" Gobber shouted the last few words.

"But since ya can't seem t' understand my words, I'll teach it to ya in the old good Viking fashioned way," He said and lifted a shield from the ground.

The trainees knew what these words meant; all of them took a battle stance. Gobber lifted his head and turned to the teens with a look in his eyes that was unforgiving and full of cold fury, able to make opponents tremble in fear, hypnotised.

Hiccup swallowed nervously. Was Gobber still the same person as before?

Gobber's blue eyes called to him, waking up a side of him he did not know he even had. The world narrowed, and there were only his mentor's eyes in front of him. His enemy. Hiccup felt the adrenaline strike his veins, his breath filling his ears. He wanted to run and strike, to feel the so self-assuring weight in his hand dance in the air.

Gobber grinned madly, invitingly, and yelled a terrible battle cry that started echoing in the distance.

Hiccup, along with the others, was startled out of his trance by their teacher's shout. He yelled back as loudly as he could, and rushed forward to the waiting warrior.

It was over as fast as it begun. Next thing they knew, they were all lying on the grass, barely able to move.

Hiccup gasped, he knew that he had gotten hit in the abdomen, but he didn't know how or when.

"Get up!" Gobber shouted in what seemed as frustration, "Is this the best ya can all do?" He added tauntingly.

Hiccup heard Astrid's war cry. He lifted his head and saw as the blonde girl jumped at their teacher with her axe lifted high. She struck it down in a terrible blow that made Gobber's shield jarred with a dull sound, but it did not make him move at all.

Astrid started pushing her axe, trying to lower the blacksmith's guard. Gobber as though he was waiting for this, pushed back with all his strength, sending Astrid in the air. She landed and uttered a painful gasp, rolling a few times.

"Wrong! Keep yer balance on both feet, especially when facing a stronger adversary!" Gobber yelled at her.

Snotlout now tried to stab from the side, but his instructor stepped away, avoiding it and hitting the teen in his face with his outstretched shield.

"Do not bend forward so much!"Gobber bellowed to Snotlout, who was pressing his hands on his nose, moaning. The blacksmith stepped over him, not taking a look.

Next were Tuffnut and Ruffnut with an unsure look on their faces. They glanced at each other and, with a small nod, lurched forward, Tuffnut swinging from the left and his sister from the right. Gobber blocked both strikes, one with a shield and other with his axe. With a lighting motion, he made their heads slam together. They fell on the ground and started groaning from pain.

"Too slow!"

The blacksmith looked in Fishlegs' direction, now. He was standing with his hammer pressed to his chest with both hands, looking panicked. When Gobber was near him, he closed his eyes and swung his hammer downwards with a surprising speed. His opponent took the hit on his shield with a gasp.

Before Fishlegs was able to open his eyes, Gobber used his peg-leg to kick the teen's knee. Fishlegs dropped to the ground, holding the area where he had been hit, crying in pain.

"Ya have strong arms, but never close yer eyes in front of your enemy," Gobber said calmly.

Without a pause, he started walking to Hiccup when Astrid threw her axe from the side.

It whistled in the air as it revolved and sunk in Gobber's raised shield. Astrid sprinted and avoided the teacher's axe that bore deep into the ground. Gobber tried to pull it out but did not manage. The blonde teen, seeing her chance, jumped and executed a roundhouse kick. Her left leg almost connected with the blacksmith's unprotected face, just to be blocked by his arm stump.

Astrid did not even have the chance to be surprised when the same stump hit her in the stomach and whammed her onto the ground. Air escaped her lungs and pain overtook her body. She looked up from the grass, body curled and holding her abdomen, at her teacher, who did not have the axe mounted to his arm stump. The reason that he was able to block her was because he had unfastened his weapon and raised his hand just at the right time.

As if Gobber were reading her mind, he said absentmindedly, pointing at the axe with its blade still buried in the earth, "Ya can't believe how fast ya can take it off."

He mounted it again and removed the blade from the soil without any problems, "Also don't rush mindlessly, even if ya see an opening, ya might be deceived."

He hit Astrid's weapon handle with his axe; it snapped out of the shield and fell to the ground.

The last standing trainee was Hiccup, holding his battle equipment and trying to remember anything that would help him. There was nothing he could think of as Gobber marched to him slowly.

"Looks like it is only ya an' me now," Gobber said with delight, looking at the lad with his cold eyes. Hiccup felt his whole body sweat and an irresistible urge to step back. He did not stand a chance, he should just...

"Ya want to run away?" Gobber questioned, his eyes shining mercilessly as he took his time walking. Hiccup stopped with his foot partially raised. His mentor was just a few steps away from him.

"How long ya will keep on runnin' away from yer problems? Ar' ya such a coward?" The blacksmith spoke emotionlessly. There were only his eyes. Only this icy blueness piercing his heart, taking away his courage and strength even before he was able to defend himself.

Hiccup's thoughts ran to the dragon he had shot down just a few days and was jarred back to reality as he caught a glistening light in the corner of his eye. He looked in terror at the axe raised above his head. His opponent was just in front of him, and he was day-dreaming instead of focusing on the fight!

_He won't do it... he won't slash me... he wo_-... Hiccup's body reacted automatically with a speed he did not expect to possess, barely avoiding the sharp swing. The next blow struck him from the right side. His body again adjusted, and he blocked it with his shield, but his small frame was not able to absorb the shock from the block. He fell hard onto his back.

"Ya want to be weak forever?" Gobber said with unhidden spite. Then he swept his axe in a lighting motion, aiming at the boy's throat. It stopped so close that it was almost touching. Hiccup looked up with fear into the eyes of his friend- at least he had thought they were friends. Why was Gobber saying such things and acting in such a way? He was gentle and kind, always there to listen to his complaining and to support him.

"Ya want to be picked at and ridiculed 'till the end of yer life?" Gobber said furiously, the cold in his eyes switching to anger now.

Hiccup breathed harder, for the first time in his life feeling really afraid of the man in front of him.

"So th' only thing ya can really do is hide and feel sorry for yerself!" He said, impaling the boy with his shining steel-blue eyes.

Hiccup felt himself boiling from anger inside at those words. Gobber didn't understand what misery he had gone through, how much he had suffered all those years! Hiccup's lips moved, uttering an almost inaudible sentence.

"What are ye saying, there? Yer too weak to even speak yer mind!"

Gobber said, making his tone more jeering.

The teen clenched his teeth together from anger. How could Gobber talk to him like that, after all those years, after everything they had gone through together?

"I am **NOT** weak!" Hiccup screamed with all the power he had in his lungs and swung his sword, throwing it at his opponent. Gobber blocked his face with the shield; the sword bounced off the wooden protection without doing any harm.

Hiccup used that moment to bash his shield against the axe and stood up, wanting to catch the sword rotating in the air. He was so blinded by rage that he did not see when the blacksmith's shield connected with his temple. As he fell back on the ground, losing consciousness, he saw Gobber's face in front of him.

Gobber was smiling, and it was very kind and warm kind of smile. Hiccup did not feel when he hit the ground; his mind was already consumed by darkness.

* * *

Hiccup woke up hearing shouts. He opened his eyes and saw Astrid's face above his, looking down curiously.

_I must be dead_, He thought, and a very sheepish smile blossomed on his face.

His angel of mercy grimaced, uncertain of what Hiccup's smile meant, but when the youth raised his hand to touch her face in wonder, she mercifully punched his arm hard cordially inviting him to abandon his deviant thoughts.

"Ouch!" Hiccup yelled, sitting up and rubbing his arm. He saw for a moment the top of a yew tree, its red cones moving slowly with the waves of the gentle wind.

_Ok, it is not a fantasy. I didn't just fantasize about getting beaten up... or did I? _The scrawny teen wondered, looking at his hands on his lap and trying to remember if he did it or not, when Astrid's voice caught his attention.

"Looks like you're awake."

Hiccup looked at her. She was sitting cross-legged next to him, her headband gone, making her loose hair stream out, like a gold waterfall over her face. She flicked her head in her usual manner, revealing her light blue eyes. The one wisp of hair that never obeyed fell down the left side of her face.

He was expecting to see her usual cold or angry glare- or both- put together in different proportions. However, she looked at him with more worry than anything else. He did not expect that- he did not expect any of this.

"You took a blow on your head, don't you remember?"She asked, her voice soft and caring.

Hiccup felt the blood hit his face. With difficulty, he spoke out, avoiding her eyes.

"W-what are you doing here?" His voice was shaking.

Astrid did not answer, but she moved closer and made a hand gesture as if she wanted to put her palm on his forehead. Hiccup zoomed back rapidly, hitting the tree trunk behind him with his back, looking scared.

The girl tried to conceal a humorous snort. The scared-looking youth looked even more confused; first she seemed caring, and now she was laughing gently. The world could have ended right then, and he would not be surprised.

"I just want to check if you have a temperature," she said, leaning and touching Hiccup's forehead with her hand. He enjoyed the touch, her skin was not as soft as he had expected. Her palm was hard, with slightly roughened skin from all the training, but nevertheless she had a warm and very feminine touch. He started missing it even before this small human contact ended.

"Looks like you don't have a fever, you turned red so I thought that you might have one," Astrid said, removing her hand.

Hiccup looked down for a moment. An emotion that he would never have expected to experience in such a situation filled up his heart:

He felt sadness and regret that he had let himself get touched. In front of him, was a living example of what he craved for. He surely longed for normal physical contact, for human touch and concern, to feel loved and cared for. It had been much too long since he had been touched in a caring way.

Yet as natural as it seemed at that moment, he still felt ashamed. He should not show himself like that in front of the girl he liked. He did not want to worry her more than he had already and he did not want to appear weak in his own eyes.

So, instead he put on his beamish mask.

"I am all right, Astrid, I really am!" Hiccup said with his best smile. However, his eyes betrayed what he had felt.

Astrid looked surprised for a moment and then looked into the direction where the group of trainees were practising, all aligned, well away from each other so they were able to train. All of them had the same wooden sword in one of their hands and simple wooden shield in the other. Gobber was standing in front of them and shouting.

"Block!"

The whole group put their shields in front, keeping, still. Their instructor paced from one to another, correcting their posture and technique. After he was done, he moved to the front again.

"Stab!" His voice dinned.

The trainees followed the command, their bucklers shifted aside at an angle, as though blocking a strike, and they made a step forward as their swords emerged from beneath their shields, hitting an invisible enemy. They stopped again and Gobber walked between his trainees, rectifying their poses. Their practise went on.

Hiccup looked on as well, afraid of saying anything.

"Swing!... Control yer breathing, breathe out when striking! Aim for the head!... Block!... Wrong footwork, Tuffnut! Faster with yer left leg!... Turn!... Lower yer hips, Fishlegs! Easier on yer knees, put more weight on yer back leg! Good!... Swing!..." Gobber continued.

"Why are you not there?" Hiccup asked, looking at the drilling group.

"Gobber said I didn't have to do it, since those are basics only. He told me to look after you," Astrid answered, looking at the boy again. For the first time in his life, Hiccup did not feel embarrassed to return the look.

"Before you got hit... I heard what Gobber said to you...I was the closest one. He shouldn't have said that, it was...," Astrid stopped for a moment, her brows furrowed as she searched for a proper word.

"He was right," Hiccup said, looking at Gobber.

Astrid looked at the boy, clearly surprised.

"He knows more than any of us what is waiting for us later, that we live in a world dominated by war and violence and that there is no escaping it. I was naive to think that I was not a part of it. Actually, I've just been running away from reality and from my problems."

As he spoke, he moved a knee closer to his chest, grabbed it and placed a cheek on top of it, still gazing at his mentor.

"The truth is that I tried to laugh it off and ignore my feelings about the fact that I am the weakest Viking in the village. Instead, I just put up with it. I always hated it, every time somebody mentioned it and every time, I tried to tell myself that I like myself this way. I was just lying to myself.

"I might be shallow to think in this way, but I am happy that he made me realize it, now. He did it because he cared," Hiccup said.

Noticing Astrid's wide open eyes and a look he could only read as amazement, he added quickly, "In his weird Viking way, of course!"

He tried to force out a laugh. The girl's expression did not change, and Hiccup started to panic.

"I guess I got hit too hard in the head! Sorry for tha-" he stopped as Astrid's head swiped through his hair and took off something from his head.

It was his turn to stay silent, now.

In her hand was her headband. She put it on over her head, adjusting it slightly. Hiccup eyed it with an opened mouth.

"There is a stream nearby. I soaked it and put it on your head. It helped me when I hit my head a few times before," Astrid said, flicking her head.

"You hit your head before?" Hiccup asked, astonished that it was possible.

"Of course," the blonde answered without any hesitation, "but only a few times." she added sternly.

For a moment they were silent again. Then Astrid stood and slapped her leather trousers a few times, flicking off the dirt. She stood with her back to Hiccup, looking ahead.

"You're weird, you know that?" Her voice sounded from behind her back.

The boy stared at her, not understanding the sudden change of topic, when Astrid turned her head and looked back at him with the most beautiful smile he could imagine.

"But in a good way, I guess," She said and, without waiting for an answer, she took her axe and shield from the ground and ran to the training grounds, leaving the floored boy behind.

She stopped soon, though, and turned to the scrawny boy with her axe slung over her shoulder.

"Are you coming or not?" She asked, putting her hand on her hip and smiling.

Hiccup rose and sprinted, thinking_, I wouldn't mind seeing such a smile for the rest of my life._

Astrid started running ahead and, after approaching Gobber, she said a few words to him. He pointed to the place near the practising Tuffnut.

He turned to the running Hiccup. The boy stopped in front of his friend, feeling a bit uncertain, but as he saw Gobber's eyes, he didn't hesitate.

"Can I join, please?" He uttered, looking into the blacksmith's eyes.

They looked at each other for a moment, exchanging something much more than words, neither of them moving or saying anything.

The silence cut by the panting breathing of the training teens.

Gobber looked ahead, "Take yer place," He threw out simply.

"Yes, sir!" Hiccup yelled happily and took his place next to Astrid, trying to mimic her position.

"Block!" Gobber shouted.

The training continued for a while. Later, they were divided into pairs. Snotlout was with Tuffnut, Ruffnut with Fishlegs and Astrid with Hiccup. As their trainer said: "To make them learn from each other".

Hiccup knew that it was done so the person who was better would teach the weaker one. He was scared at first, but he changed his mind with time as he got up from the ground for the tenth time, defeated by his partner who was swiftly twisting her training weapon. It was a simple stick that represented a sword or axe.

"You're too fast and strong!" Hiccup breathed out. He was happy to be with the girl he had always admired, but he would not call a situation when he was beaten to a pulp a date. After so many times, it was making him a bit irritated. He stood up again, trying to take his battle position.

_How was it? Lower your position, shield in front of you, sword at the chest-height. If she attacks from the left I'll counter and_…, he thought, trying to implement every instruction that he was given.

"Left!" Astrid shouted, twisting and launching an attack from the side she had mentioned.

Hiccup was barely able to take the blow on his shield, his body automatically adapting, without any thought or repetitious command, when the blonde warrior cried out again.

"Right!" she revolved again, and her weapon collided with Hiccup's shield. The boy stopped, astonished that he was able to protect himself from any attack, when Astrid's weapon hit Hiccup's ribs.

"_That's_ for not paying attention," She said to the now panting boy.

It was a moment before he was able to say anything.

"You didn't warn me!" Hiccup said, holding his chest where he had been hit. Astrid raised her eyebrow and looked like him like he had said something stupid.

"Oh, right," The boy muttered under his nose. Asking for a warning before attack was like asking if you could get yourself beaten harder.

"You said that you like pain," Astrid said with a smile.

Hiccup smiled back, raising his shield.

Near them, Tuffnut was trying to get a clear strike on Snotlout, but all his attacks were blocked or parried. Hiccup watched his cousin as he dodged one strike after another. Hiccup hated to admit it, but Snotlout was not showing off; he was a really good fighter when he wanted to be.

Further away, Ruffnut was beating Fishlegs mercilessly. He was lying on the ground, curled around himself.

It was clearly seen in each pair who was a better warrior.

In his case, it was the most obvious. Hiccup didn't have time to contemplate more as Astrid started her one-side sparring again.

The training continued, and Hiccup tried as much as possible to not get hit. He rarely managed that.

Astrid proved to be a very effective and unforgiving teacher. She exploited Hiccup's every mistake or lack of focus to her advantage. The scrawny teen was not able to hit Astrid even once through the whole training, but he was satisfied nevertheless. He had made a step forward, not only in his training but especially, even more, in being able to talk to Astrid normally. Taking a hit in the head seemed a small price to pay now to the boy.

* * *

"So how did I do today?" Hiccup asked, sitting beneath one of the trees surrounding the grassland where they trained.

The other trainees were resting near them as well and Gobber was busy winding a cord around one of the training weapon's handles. He was sitting on a basket nearby the boy.

"Horrible," Astrid answered coolly, leaning against the tree by the boy's side, sharpening her axe's blade with a stone.

Hiccup smirked, drinking water again from a goat leather bota. He did not expect any other answer. Yesterday he would have argued that, as the "most awesome" Viking he was just having a weaker day.

Today, he felt like he had actually learned something.

When you practise anything, there are two things you need to train: your mind, and your body. Even if you knew all the theory in the world about how to fight, you still would not be able to battle well if did not practise. Your body needs a lot of time to learn the techniques and reactions you want it to have. One training session was not enough to make his body learn how to even strike properly, but the new information was buzzing in his head.

He felt excited about what he would be taught next. Now he knew that Astrid was right, and if he understood one thing about that girl, it was that she didn't want to hurt him with her comments, she was just being honest (truthful?), hardworking and extremely beautiful...

Hiccup found himself gazing again at the girl's face; he wanted to talk to her more. Feeling a sudden surge of confidence he stood up and bit his lip, trying to think of a proper topic to start a  
conversation. With a flash of inspiration, he decided to ask Astrid to teach him another technique.

He was opening his mouth to say something, when he felt himself getting shoved from behind. Hiccup hit the ground flat-out, hearing the familiar jeering laughs behind him.

"Sorry, Toothpick! I didn't see you there!" Snotlout's mocking voice sounded above the sprawled out boy.

"You didn't see him there because he is so small!" Tuffnut added.

They both laughed at this old, very old joke.

Hiccup felt his body boil from anger. He wanted this scoffing to end. Maybe it was due to today's training and Gobber's words. Maybe it was because of a certain girl standing near him, observing this, or maybe it was caused by all the recent events and the boy's feelings had to be released.

Hiccup rolled onto his back, looking furious. Tuffnut looked down at him with his sneering smile.

Snotlout was walking to Astrid, trying to start a conversation. The blonde girl looked at the approaching boy with total disgust, grabbing her axe tighter.

Gobber just took a glimpse up, not stopping his work, his face emotionless.

"You do not need to talk to such losers like Hiccup! Why won't you talk with a true Viking, like me?" Snotlout said, nonchalantly.

Hiccup felt something snap inside. Everything started to move more slowly. Tuffnut was about to stomp on his chest, finishing the humiliation routine. It was his mistake to make it so predictable.

Hiccup's body again reacted automatically. He caught the foot in the air, right above his chest, and rolled with it, making Tuffnut fall to the ground. Hiccup jumped to his feet and threw the first rock he felt beneath his hand in Snotlout's direction. It hit Snotlout's helmet. His head bashed against the wood making the helmet ring in a clear sound.

Hiccup knew that he could not beat them both. He could not beat even one of them.

Tuffnut tackled him and pressed a knee on his chest, immobilizing him. He raised his fist, but before he was able to hit Hiccup, he was thrown aside by Snotlout's hand.

"He is mine!" The sturdy teen shouted.

Hiccup did not even manage to get up when the first kick slammed onto his side, knocking the air out of his lungs and making his helmet fall off his head.

"You think you can hit me and get away with it?" Snotlout kicked the smaller boy again, making him roll once.

Hiccup was lucky that Snotlout was still wearing leather graves for the training, so his strikes did not break any of Hiccup's bones.

The scrawny teen was lying on his back now, trying to get his breath and stand up at the same time when his cousin grabbed him by his collar. He dragged Hiccup to the nearest tree and yanked his body against its trunk. Hiccup saw Snotlout's infuriated face, ready to strike the first blow.

However, before it happened, another, smaller hand grabbed Snotlout's raised hand by the wrist and skillfully twisted it, making the teen bully hit the ground.

"Stop it!" Astrid shouted, holding Snotlout's hand in a tight grip, "Have you both lost your minds?"

Hiccup was panting, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, looking down at his torturer with rage, almost not hearing Astrid's words. Snotlout chuckled; it only fuelled Hiccup's anger.

"She won't be here to defend you forever!" Snotlout hissed from the ground, looking with equal rage back at Hiccup, "You are a weakling and you will always be one, a laughing stock, always hiding behind your father's back! And now it is even better! You need a girl to protect you!"

He scowled as Astrid strengthened her grip. Tuffnut laughed loudly. His sister smirked, looking at the scene with interest. Fishlegs looked lost about what to do.

Gobber rose from the basket. With a sigh, he started walking to the teens, wanting to end this brawl.

Hiccup's brain was not working now; he wanted nothing more than to hurt the bullying boy. He yelled some words he knew that he would regret later.

"I challenge you!" Hiccup shouted, pointing his finger at Snotlout's face.

Astrid gasped, stunned. "Are you crazy? Did you actually get hit too hard in the head? He is going to kill you!" She said, looking in disbelief at the scrawny  
teen.

Tuffnut whooped and Ruffnut laughed scornfully. Fishlegs watched with a clearly scared face, and Gobber took his place again. He resumed his work, not looking at the group.

"You are _not_ going to do this! It does not make any sense...," Astrid breathed out, looking into Hiccup's determined eyes.

There were a few clonking sounds behind them as Gobber tossed two shields and two wooden swords on the ground.

Astrid looked at the tossed battle equipment, then at Hiccup, who refused to look into her eyes, still locking his gaze on his sprawled out opponent.

With a mad groan, she let Snotlout go and took her position next to the apparently nonchalant Gobber. He seemed to be paying more attention to the cord being wrapped around the weapon handles than to the boys about to engage in battle.

The sky was now cloudy. It was going to rain soon, but nobody noticed. Snotlout stood up and grabbed his equipment with a rising smile, full of confidence. Hiccup took his equipment without any visible emotion on his face.

Both of them faced each other and looked deeply into each other's eyes.

As much as she tried to look cool, Astrid could not help but to feel worried for the smaller boy. She had fought him, and she knew that his chances for victory were less than slim, but she knew the rules. Anyone could challenge anybody and nobody could interfere until one of the participant admitted defeat or died in combat. Death was very rare; it was more often just a type of practice made to test each other's strength or to solve disputes.

Still for some reason, she wished for Hiccup to get out from that battle whole and healthy.

The boys started circling each other, Snotlout making his sword twist in his hand with grace.

"I am going to make you remember this for a long time, Toothpick. I'll even be so kind as to let you strike first! Quite fitting for a loser like you!" Snotlout said, hitting his shield with his sword  
intimidatingly.

Hiccup's face remained expressionless. He stepped back a few steps and stopped, waiting for the enemy's move.

"What are you waiting for? Are you chickening out again?" Snotlout's smile faded and he took a few steps forward, swinging his sword, answering the challenge.

Neither of them moved. The other teens didn't say anything, feeling the tension. Only Gobber disturbed the silence with his weapon repairs.

Snotlout, tired of waiting, attacked with a right swing. Hiccup blocked with his shield and replied with an upward strike that would connect with Snotlout's chin if he didn't step back. The bigger boy, without a sign of surprise, made the same move again, this time striking with more force. Hiccup, with a gasp, barely managed to deflect the blow with his shield. He took a few clumsy steps back.

Snotlout's face showed that he was done playing. Hiccup swung his sword again, aiming at the head. This time, his cousin repelled the strike so fast and with such power, that Hiccup's sword was sent flying. With devastating precision, Snotlout twisted in place, gaining momentum and striking Hiccup's shield from the side. The shield escaped his grip and struck the ground, together with his sword.

Then the bigger teen twisted his sword in his hand with astonishing speed and plunged the handle into Hiccup's abdomen.

Internally, Astrid flinched violently.

Hiccup fell on his knees, clutching his stomach and trying to inhale, without success. Snotlout turned to the crowd and raised his hands in a victorious gesture.

"The loser is kneeling now; let's see him admit his defeat now!" He said contemptuously, turning back to the scrawny teen.

Tuffnut gibed louder. His sister did not laugh, just looked on with interest. Fishlegs looked terrified, taking glances at Gobber, looking for clues on what to do. Astrid did not show anything, but an observant person would notice that she stood with her hands crossed on her chest, her fingers squeezing her arms so hard that the skin on her  
knuckles became white.

Snotlout kicked Hiccup in the chest, making him fall on his back. Hiccup looked at the grey sky from which small droplets started to fall and splash on his face.

Snotlout put his shoe sole against Hiccup's throat and kept it there, not pressing.

For now.

"Time to say who is your master, here!" Snotlout jeered.

Hiccup grabbed Snotlout's foot in response and tried to lift it or roll with it as he had with Tuffnut earlier, but his foe was much more experienced. Pressing his foot harder, Snotlout pinned Hiccup to the ground and made him gasp for air.

"Say it!" Snotlout's voice shouted. He applied more pressure on his foot. Hiccup squirmed, and his breathing became wheezing spasms.

None of the observers laughed now; all watched in equal silence and stillness. The time passed, and only rain started pouring harder, only slightly muffling the laboured breathing of the trapped boy.

"Give up!" Snotlout shouted, half in disbelief, half in anger.

Astrid's fingers started moving towards her axe. She would give them just a few more moments; she would not worry about the rules. She had never predicted that this scrawny teen would be so stubborn.

_He is such an idiot! He will die! That stupid, careless, idiotic... idiot! _She kept repeating in her mind. Near her, Gobber appeared to be busy, but he was actually glancing from beneath his helmet, not taking his eyes off Hiccup.

"Just punch the ground three times!" Snotlout yelled to Hiccup, his voice panicking now.

Hiccup's breathing and grip started to weaken, as though he were about to pass out. Snotlout looked at Gobber, silently asking him what to do.

His instructor didn't even blink, not supplying any clues.

The sturdy boy bit his lip and thought for a moment. He knew that he could not kill Hiccup, he just couldn't. But if he let him go without the smaller teen accepting defeat, the match would end in a draw, even with Snotlout clearly superior. Snotlout thought for a moment more. As Hiccup's hands slid listlessly to the ground and his eyes began to slowly close, Snotlout made his mind.

With a furious yowl, he removed his leg and stepped back, punching a tree trunk on his way.

Astrid breathed out with relief. Hiccup spat out loudly and then began to cough, breathing again.

Snotlout did not want to leave things like that; he wanted to be the victor here. A draw with his weakling of a cousin was too humiliating. He wanted to pay Hiccup back for making him look like an idiot in front of everybody. He knew one thing that everybody was forbidden to tell to any member of Haddock clan.

He strutted over to the collapsed teen with a mad smile.

"You were lucky to escape alive today, but not everybody from your family was so lucky as to get out alive," He hissed.

Hiccup's eyes snapped open, but before he was able to do anything, he was immobilised by Snotlout's leg again.

"Your mother was the unlucky one... what a shame," Snotlout continued. Hiccup started moving violently and thrashing the ground with his legs, but he could not overpower his captor.

Fishlegs had his eyes widely opened, petrified of where the fight had gone. Tuffnut shook his head in disbelief, and Ruffnut watched it with disgust and repulsion. Astrid did not know how to react to such low acting; a warrior would never do such a shameless thing.

Gobber now held a cord's end that he had been about to tie up between his teeth. He tensely pulled it to its limits, looking at Snotlout with a cold gaze.

Hiccup's eyes glowed with detest as Snotlout leaned forward, water dripping from his helmet onto his relative's face.

"Your mother died in a fire, didn't she?" Snotlout said in a clearly heard whisper.

Hiccup's eyes widened, and he suddenly stopped moving.

The cord held by Gobber squealed pitiably as he used even more strength to stretch it.

"You were found near her dead body, with most of your own body badly burned," Snotlout spoke.

The gathered teens exchanged looks. All of them knew shreds about this incident, but discussing about it was forbidden.

"That is why you always wear clothes that cover your whole body, so others won't see what you did!" Snotlout said loudly.

Horror and shock settled in now. All the teens looked at Hiccup and Snotlout in absolute silence. Only the blacksmith's face remained as expressionless as before.

The tip of Snotlout's wooden sword started dancing on his cousin's tunic, drawing lines in his clothes.

"Let's see..., you have your stomach burned...," His sword slashed a line across the smaller boy's abdomen and started moving up, "… and your chest, and back and neck" His sword's blade-tip travelled up and stopped between Hiccup's terrified eyes. Even though Snotlout was not stomping on him anymore, he did not move. He had an empty gaze, as though he was now only observing some past events, oblivious to the present situation.

"You were too weak to protect your own mother...," Snotlout said with a grin.

Hiccup's chest started to lift and fall, and he breathed uncontrollably.

"_You_ escaped with mere scars, and _she_ died. You know the situation just as well as I...," He knelt on Hiccup's chest so he could be closer to his face, relishing the feeling of absolute dominance over another person. It had long ago gone past what he wanted to accomplish, but he went with the flow, his joy thriving. Snotlout had never felt so powerful in his life, and he did not want to throw this feeling away, he needed one more thing to fulfil this ecstasy.

"...It was your fault, Hiccup."

The cord stretched by Gobber snapped, just as Hiccup did.

The recumbent youth screamed in shock. It was almost inhuman; a bodychilling, heart shattering screech.

Hiccup's hand snapped up a small rock nearby and slammed it against Snotlout's temple. Snotlout was knocked from Hiccup's chest and onto the ground.

Instantly, Hiccup leapt forward and rolled near Gobber's basket, grabbing something from the ground. Only Gobber saw this clearly; the others were too stunned to follow.

Everybody, including Snotlout who was holding his hand to his head, looked at Hiccup. The youth now knelt on one leg with a bow in his arms held in a perfect shooting position. The arrow's sharp tip was aimed at Snotlout's head.

"You're not going to shoot, you don't have the-," Snotlout hissed, but something whooshed and struck the tree behind the talking teen.

Snotlout's eyes widened in shock, as a small cut opened on his cheek. Behind him, the quivering arrow had bored into the trunk.

Astrid took a step to stop this madness, but she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Gobber was regarding Hiccup in front of him with a heavy look. His hand warned, but also reassured Astrid. The battle hadn't ended yet, they couldn't interfere.

Gobber knew the abilities of the scrawny youth, who was picking up another arrow from where it lay in the grass and nocking it to the stretched bowstring.

Hiccup's skilful movements were trained and reflexive. The bow was the only weapon he had been allowed to train with his entire life. He had made a small shooting range behind his house, a place where he was alone and undisturbed. He did not need another person, and there was no risk of being hurt by a training partner. It was a good sport when you had chosen solitude as a companion for most of your life.

"W-w-what?" Snotlout stuttered, pressing the other hand to his cheek and looking at the blood smeared on the palm.

He glanced at Hiccup, who was positioned half-kneeling, ready to strike in front of him, motionless. The arrow's blade glistened as rain dropped from it.

The rain strengthened, water poured from Hiccup's hair, but did not quench the fire in his eyes.

"D-don't do it," Snotlout uttered weakly. Hiccup did not move, and his gaze did not change.

"Do something! Stop this fucking psycho!" The sturdy teen screamed to Gobber.

The blacksmith didn't do anything, just looked back at Snotlout, his expression mirroring Hiccup's.

"Just say 'I give up'!" Tuffnut said, desperately.

His sister looked on with a rather bored face.

Snotlout looked at the green-eyed boy in front of him. Hiccup's eyes now looked more like those of a dragon, but it was probably an illusion caused by the rain.

Snotlout inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, waiting for the burst of pain that would end his life. He knew that it was his fault for saying something unnecessarily cruel, but he still had courage and stubbornness left in him.

The arrow started to shake as Hiccup now had difficulties keeping the bow taut. He grimaced, urging himself to make a decision, remembering all these years of bullying and insults. Making him feel inferior to everybody else, implanting disbelief and fear in him. And for what? He had never hurt anyone intentionally. He was just different, not able to blend in. He was never understood by others, and he did not expect it. For a very long time he had known that even he did not understand himself.

But there were always people like Snotlout, thirsty of control over weaker persons; and there were always those disdaining adults with their suspicious glances and well-heard whispers behind his back.

Now, finally, Hiccup wanted to retaliate, to make at least one person know how he had felt for all those years! He had the chance to do it now. He just needed to injure Snotlout, shoot his knee for example. Make him suffer for the rest of his life, all he had to do was to-

_Have you satisfied your ego yet?_ The Night Fury's tired eyes flashed in his mind.

The bow fell to the grass, along with the arrow. Hiccup's hands dropped to his sides, and he turned his face up to the sky with exhausted eyes, as if seeking answers. Rain streaked down his face, creating paths from his eyes, enhancing the already terrible sadness welling up from inside him. The coldness of the rain mixed in his eyes with the hot water coming from inside of him.

Gobber stood up and took off his helmet. Gently, he put it on Hiccup's head; it was much bigger than his head and hid his eyes from view.

"The match ends in a draw," The blacksmith said softly, "Do you warriors agree?"

The only answer was the rain rattling continuously on the tree leaves.

"Good, then that's all for today. We meet tomorrow in th' Ring, same time as usual."

The blacksmith approached and lowered himself in front of the still shocked Snotlout, catching his eyes with his own stare, "I'll forgive you for saying these things only because you said them in a battle. But you know there is a rule not to speak about it, and we must all follow it. Do it again, and _I_ will be the one to challenge you to battle," Gobber spoke quietly, so that only Snotlout heard it.

The sturdy teen nodded with a frightened expression.

Ruffnut was the first to leave, walking away in a rush, not looking behind. Tuffnut assisted Snotlout to stand up and put his hand on his shoulder, helping him to walk away. Through the rain, the twin's voice floated: "It wasn't cool dude," and "You shouldn't have said that."

Gobber nodded approvingly to Fishlegs, letting him know that he could leave. Fishlegs started to leave as well, looking behind his shoulder at Hiccup from time to time.

Only Astrid remained, standing next to the kneeling Hiccup, with a puzzled look. She was not able to say anything, not able to penetrate the shell created by the small youth in front of her.

"He will be all right, don't worry," Gobber said to her with a small smile.

Hesitantly, Astrid turned and walked a few steps and stopped, looking back at Hiccup. He resembled a broken puppet. Her heart filled with guilt and bewilderment. She tried to say something, failing again to find the right words. She started running, she was helpless here, unwelcomed, alien.

And it hurt her.

Gobber sat again on the basket. He lifted the helmet from Hiccup's face. The small youth was sitting on his toes in front of him. The boy's eyes did not have the green fire in them anymore; they were lifeless and impassive.

"So it is ya and me left, now… again," Gobber said, lifting one of the training weapons and resuming his work.

The rain changed into a drizzle now, gently tapping Hiccup's wet hair.

Gobber's voice was gentle, "It's ok to let it out… It is raining, nobody is going to see it, me neither."

The water kept falling from Hiccup's eyes as the rain continued to fall; refreshing spirits, mending hearts, making the painful memories go dim with its soothing song.

* * *

"Oy!"

Astrid knew that this was addressed to her. She was walking between the houses, heading towards her home. The sun reflected in small puddles dispersed through the path. She turned and saw Ruffnut come in her direction. Astrid slowed her pace, letting her friend align with her. None of them spoke for a moment, just walked in silence, Astrid deep in thought and Ruffnut looking ahead with hands behind her head.

"I had to escape those idiots! They went to my house, and I was sick of listening to them, talking about what happened today," Ruffnut said, still gazing forward.

Again, her companion did not say anything, looking at the ground, her posture slumped.

Ruffnut sighed and slapped the back of Astrid's head hard.

"What are you doing!" Astrid yelled to her assailant's face, massaging her head.

"Helping you," Ruffnut answered calmly, looking completely relaxed.

"I don't need you helping me with anything!" Astrid said, storming away.

"It's about Hiccup isn't it?" Ruffnut stated, making her friend stop dead in her tracks for a moment.

Astrid soon started walking again, as fast as she could; Ruffnut followed like a shadow.

"How interesting! No denying, hitting or screaming, which means it is something serious," Ruffnut teased with a devious smirk, "If you will tell me now I promise not to gossip about it later in the Mead Hall..."

Astrid zoomed back and looked back into her friend's eyes so closely that Ruffnut had to lean back a bit.

"…much," Ruffnut finished.

They stared at each other for a moment, Astrid with the coldest gaze she could summon, and Ruffnut with a careless-looking smile.

"It can work on dragons, sugar, but not on me," Ruffnut said, with a tedious face.

Astrid exhaled tiredly, "You just _won't_ leave me alone."

"Nope," Ruffnut replied, grinning.

Astrid sat down at one of the stairs that were leading up, twisting on a hill.

"It's wet" Ruffnut said, casually. Astrid did not even bother to shrug her shoulders.

Ruffnut took place next to her and did not say anything as a few children passed them, running with echoing laughs.

Soon, the shuffling of another child sounded. A small, weedy looking girl ran clumsily after the group. There was mud on her knees, probably after a fall. She cried out in a high pitched voice, her eyes tearful, "Wait for me!".

However, the other children didn't listen, too busy with their own play to notice her.

The girls watched them as they ran behind the corner, disappearing from sight.

Astrid remained silent. She knew that she would tell what was worrying her sooner or later; her problem was that she never knew how to begin a conversation.

However, with Ruffnut she never had to worry about it.

"It was hard to watch it, wasn't it?" Ruffnut asked.

Astrid nodded without conviction.

Ruffnut continued," What Snotlout did was a bit out of line-"

**_"Out of line?"_** Astrid exploded.

Ruffnut covered her ear with a finger. Astrid might be intelligent, but sometimes she was very easy to deal with.

"How could he even _say_ such thing, in a middle of a fight? He just did this so he could make himself feel superior, as if Hiccup hadn't gone through enough already!" Astrid continued, gesticulating widely.

"You like him?" Ruffnut questioned, with a teasing smile.

"Who? Wha-? Of course not! It's just…"

"Just what?" Ruffnut queried gently.

Astrid was silent, biting her lip, looking for the correct words.

"I forgot about what happened to him and, yesterday, I… said some things to him that must've hurt him," Astrid said putting her hair wisps from one side behind one ear nervously, remembering how she had yelled at Hiccup on the hill, just to let her frustration go.

It all had seemed so much simpler before today's fight; she would have never felt guilty or bad about anything that she had done to the boy.

"Sorry, I don't want to bore you, you hate him after all," Astrid added quickly.

"Do I?" Ruffnut said, slouching. Noticing her friend's inquisitive stare, she smiled, "I do not hate him, I never did."

Astrid's eyes widened even more with astonishment.

"But you always laugh at him and then you…," her brows furrowed, thinking of something more to add, "and then- well that's _all_ you do!" Astrid finished, surprised by this discovery.

"Not my fault he is acting like an idiot, and you insult me, thinking I don't laugh at everybody," Ruffnut said in pretended anger, but after a second she started again jestingly, "Remember when we were fighting and your trousers broke on your butt? Remember what I called you for the next month? The Astonishing Blue Pant-,"

Her voice became muffled as Astrid held a hand on Ruffnut's mouth, blushing horribly.

"Yes, I got your point! Can you stop mentioning it, already? That happened two years ago for Thor's sake!" Astrid hissed.

Ruffnut agreed with a nod, and Astrid released her grip.

"What are you going to do, then?" Ruffnut asked, looking at the wooden wall of one of the houses in front of them.

"I don't know," Astrid answered, pecking the ground with the tip of her axe's handle. The thuds of disturbed soil filled the air for a moment.

"You're such an idiot, sometimes," Ruffnut said, tired of this situation, "Just apologize. The end."

"It is amazing how easy for you it is to give me advice, even though you… you know, lost your parent, as well," Astrid said quietly, concentrating on breaking the earth with her axe's handle, hoping it would dampen the words she just said.

Ruffnut looked at her friend with a stunned expression and then laughed loudly, vibrantly and freely. This time it was Astrid's turn to be surprised. After she finished, Ruffnut slapped Astrid's back affectionately.

"It's sweet you worry about such things, but seriously, please don't," Ruffnut stood up and stretched like a cat, "The longer you hesitate, the harder it will be to do it later… sometimes you wind up missing out on the chance to apologize," Ruffnut finished, looking distantly for a moment, but beamed almost immediately and started walking away.

"Thanks, Ruff," Astrid uttered, looking at her departing friend who waved her hand once in answer, not even looking back.

_I will do it today at the evening meeting, for sure_, Astrid promised herself, standing up as well and flicking off wet dirt from the back side of her skirt.

"It was a bad idea to sit on this step, after all" she said, sighing.

* * *

_Maybe it was a bad idea after all_, Hiccup thought, after sliding off the fallen tree hanging across Raven Point's Ravine.

He again moved over this natural bridge on his bottom, but now he flapped his trousers, trying to make the material dampened by the tree trunk not to touch his skin so much. This was hard to do with one hand only, the other holding a fish by its gill. He also held a light-green, circular shield, around one and a half elbows long, with an artlessly drawn dragon's head.

After the training, he had felt all right. Hiccup had had one more duty after the other teens left...

* * *

_…Gobber threw his axe in front of the boy without a word. Hiccup picked the weapon with one hand, standing up weakly. Droplets still fell from his hair even though the rain was slowing down. His hair was falling over his face, below his eyes height._

_That was not the first combat training for the teen. When he was younger he had joined some a few times, always with disastrous results, and all of them had ended like today, with a punishment for being the weakest trainee._

_Hiccup raised the axe above his skinny frame and froze in place._

_The punishment perfectly matched the Viking philosophy. It involved sweat, physical effort, and the possibility of hurting yourself._

_Birds started their singing again as the rain ceased. Time passed peacefully and gave the boy the space he needed to think. Snotlout's words still resonated in his mind, but the anger inside him was diminishing instead of increasing._

_The truth was that Hiccup did not know if the death of his mother was his fault or not… he did not remember anything._

_After the accident, the following weeks were blurry and vague. When he came to his senses, the Elder explained to him what had happened, not hiding anything. He did not care back then, he was dead inside._

_He now knew that his mind was affected by something Vikings called the "Memory Blessing". Sometimes, after a tragic accident, Vikings (usually children) completely forgot about it, repressing it. It was a blessing because they could go forward with their lives, but it was also a curse. The memory could catch you at any moment of your life. One smell, somebody's voice, a glimpse of an object and you would relive something your mind wanted to forget._

_Even now, Hiccup would sometimes wake up, soaked in sweat, trembling and feeling his scars burning, like they were on fire. Usually he then bit the pillow and screamed into it until the reaction passed._

_He was horrified not to know if he should feel guilty or not._

_If it was his fault, as Snotlout and some Vikings assumed, then he wished he knew. He could finally ease the heavy burden he felt in his heart._

_And now, he had made another living creature suffer._

_The axe dropped one the ground loudly. Gobber remained silent, repairing arrows' fletchings, soaking the finished ones in a small mug with water, and then pulling the feathers into straight lines._

_The blacksmith did not look at the boy, who lifted the axe again with trembling hands._

_Thinking about the dragon helped Hiccup regain focus again. He had promised himself that he would help that dragon and he would do it._

_Today._

_The sun was getting lower, touching the tip of the tree under which Gobber was sitting. It was a little past noon now._

_"That's enough for today," The blacksmith said, packing his equipment into to the basket. Hiccup dropped the axe and flopped down onto his back, smiling slightly._

_"Gobber?" Hiccup asked, looking up at the limping man._

_"Mhm?" Gobber answered, kneeling under scattered weapons._

_"Why you were pleased when you and I were fighting? I lost in the end," Hiccup said._

_Gobber glanced surreptitiously at the boy, looking for any clues about the boy's mood. To his relief, he saw Hiccup looking at him with a faint smile and sparks of interest back in his eyes._

_"I wouldn't worry 'bout the winnin' or losin' thing too much, it was known since beginning that ya would lose," Gobber answered casually, rotating a dented training shield in his hand._

_"I _am_ going to win with you someday, I only lost to you today, because I slipped," Hiccup said, looking at the grey clouds moving across the sky._

_"I am sure that's why ya lost today," Gobber chuckled, putting the rustling basket on his back, stretching his hand out to the youth lying in the grass. Hiccup took the axe in one hand and grabbed the blacksmith's hand with the other. Gobber pulled back and helped the boy to his feet._

_"To answer yer question," Gobber said, taking his axe and putting it beneath his belt," Today was the first day in yer life, ya wasn't afraid to show how ya really feel."_

_The blacksmith put his hand on Hiccup's head tenderly, "Don't forget that feeling, lad,"_

_Hiccup looked into Gobber's eyes, smiling warmly_

_"I won't."_

* * *

Hiccup did not forget as he was walking now to the Pit with a plan to meet the dragon face to face.

Or face to snout.

Now, as he had a calmer and clearer mind, he knew that the battle with Gobber, and later with Snotlout, had given him more than he ever hoped for.

He had gained a new self-confidence; not the pretended one made up with snarky remarks and rebellious behavior, but one that was like a fire lit in his heart, ready to burst into flames when given a chance.

He felt like all the events that had happened: downing a Night Fury, meeting the dragon, freeing it, thinking about it, thinking more, fighting with himself, Astrid, Gobber and Snotlout...

...It all led to this moment, and he felt that he was now ready to face the dragon.

Among the swirl of emotions inside him, one predominated: the guilt and the burning desire to redeem his actions. He knew that this would most probably be an impossible task, but still he wanted it more than anything.

And when such feelings overwhelm you, there is not much you can do about it.

Hiccup was ready. Much more than one would expect a scrawny teenage boy with a codfish in his hand to be.


	13. Breaking the Stereotypes

Disclaimer: Same.

AN: . Yes, yes- THIS is the most important scene in the movie, and you would like to read it already. Just a few words from me. I found it weird that nobody has asked why dragons are capable of reasoning and how they know so much about medicine and other more advanced things. Better fasten your seat belts because it will get even weirder! I do not write anything just to make something that sounds cool. I have a very analytical mind, so, for me everything must have a reason. Now, let's see some human-dragon touching each other. (I couldn't help myself)

All bow to Fjord Mustang Backroads and ValVole (even not being a beta reader she had spent her precious time correcting this chapter out of good will. Amazing!) for their help with this chapter.

* * *

Shade used to love routines. The repetitive actions, the same situations one encountered knowing right from the spot how to deal with them. No surprises or changes, only the thoughtless march forward. Never asking unnecessary questions about what you have done with your life or where the road you were on was heading.

Time was leaking through his claws, unnoticed and rejected. The fear of survival swapped with an alluring sense of anger, then with a sense of nothingness and futility.

The never changing round shape of the sun and the pulsating rhythm of the moon reminded Shade of the passing time. However, it was still ignored. Daytime served only as a sign to rest before the darkness came, permitting to go hunt… and kill.

Pain from the healing wounds and broken bones was the only companion he had, so welcomed and yearned for. It was a sign that he still existed; in it, there was a reason for all that had happened. He suffered for a reason; he had rejected his own self and killed for it. There must be a reason, a purpose, something at the end, anything…

My_ reason…_

_I don't know anymore…_

The small, black tube visualized in Shade's mind burst openand a small pain erupted near the rib's surface as he applied his regeneration technique.

_Third capillary vessel riddled today. I am losing concentration,_ he thought, testily.

He focused on a crack on one of his damaged ribs again, concentrating on the surface where he knew the bone repairing cells were located. The image rendered in his mind crevice's rims started to glow with a pale light as the cells started to divide and multiply and then start healing the injury.

Healing was a very delicate and difficult work. When he was younger and did not have enough practical knowledge yet, he used to heal his bones neglectfully, leaving a bulge or depression in the bone structure. It wound up hindering the regeneration process instead of accelerating it.

Shade never tried to repair nerves or organs that needed a high blood supply, like the kidneys or liver. One wrong move and he could die from internal bleeding**, **destroy the nerve**, **or paralyze some part of his body.

Before he started learning this technique, he had to learn everything there was to a dragon's anatomy and the basics of something called 'physiology'. An even more peculiar thing was that dragons learned human anatomy as well. Supposedly, mostly for combat purposes, but the human anatomical knowledge dragons had to acquire was almost equal to that about dragons. Upon learning this, the young Shade had started asking questions again.

His head had hurt for the next days after _that._

This persistent and annoying feeling made him lose his focus again, and he emitted an angry growl as another capillary wall exploded.

This is what happened when a dragon directed the energy into the wrong place.

The concept of energy filling a body was present in almost every advanced dragon teaching. Its name was _the Tagma_. By controlling your mind, you could use it on any part of your body to help heal it.

Whether it was true or not, or how it really worked, Shade did not care. If he had to imagine eels to make himself feel better, he would do it.

It worked, and that was all that mattered.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times, blinded momentarily by the light entering his bolt-hole.

Shade walked out from his shelter and stretched himself. A volley of cracking sounds went through his spine. Compared to how he had been before he started his treatment, he felt a _sky high_ _better _(a dragon saying). All his injuries had been healed to the point he could walk again. However, his muscles were sore and stiff for not being used for so long, and he hated that feeling.

For the past two sun cycles, all he had done was to stay curled in his den and split the time between sleeping and trying to heal.

And also to think. Think a lot. Thoughts of how to kill the last enemy brought on by the memories of a certain human. A human who had crippled Shade. Who had bestowed on him this hopeless situation he was in now.

Even if, miraculously, he was able to heal himself fully, he still would have to get out from this trap. And there was no way he could do it. Not on his own. He was not a good climber, he never had to be. There had been no space where he couldn't go by using his wings...

Until now...

He had enough experience to know when he had a chance of survival and when not. He had had a lot of time to think**, **and he was certain that he would not escape alive this time on his own.

He had escaped death so many times because he had always been faster, stronger, smarter. He had escaped its claws or fire. Yet, this time, he hadn't been able to escape the long reach of a tiny human's hand.

Shade smirked sadly, sitting in front of the lake, looking peacefully at the water rippling in front of him as the wind caressed its surface and listening to the gentle whooshing of the reeds leaning from the shallow waters.

_I salute you, little human, you have killed the one whom nobody else was able to slay. You can be proud of yourself**.**_

A small splash on the lake turned his attention there, as a small fish disappeared beneath the surface.

Food was very limited here; it was only a matter of time before there would be none left. He could live without any food for a long time, living only on water, slowly going mad from hunger and regressing back to his primal instincts.

He had survived such a situation once, thanks only to the help of one of his brethren.

* * *

_After his family had been forced and broken apart_**, **_the young and left-for-dead Shade was in a state where he refused to eat or to do anything at all. He could only stare blankly at the cave entrance, patiently focused on waiting. Waiting against hope for a feeling of belonging that would never happen again._

_There was only a large cave, once filled with life. Now, there was only an abandoned_**, **_terribly emaciated, adolescent dragon with a lifeless look in his eyes. First there had been denial and anger. Then there had been fear and loneliness. And, finally, there had been madness, infecting his mind and siphoning out all logic. _

_When he had started to think how delicious his blood would taste, somebody had come. _

_Shade only remembered the feeling of food being rammed down his throat and his jaws being closed forcefully, until he swallowed. It had been repeated a few times when he coughed and gargled, trying to spit the food out. He begged. Whined and pleaded for that unknown benevolent stranger to leave him to his death. _

_But his mysterious saviour was merciless in his or her kindness. Piece after piece of food was forced into Shade's mouth until his moans transformed into futilely restrained, weak purrs of embarrassed pleasure. _

_Then he was left alone, only seeing the undistinguishable and blurry image of a dragon leave without a word. That dragon had also left a freshly hunted deer in front of Shade. Before the youth knew it, he was wolfing it down, eating large portions at once, barely chewing. He felt so ashamed at how disgustingly joyous he felt when eating it, his body happy to still be alive. His body was still craving for food, clinging to life in spite of his mind's sorrow. _

_He felt it through his overwhelming sadness and guilt. If his species had been be capable of crying, he would have done it at that time. Shade never found out who his deliverer was, not even the name or why he or she did it. Shade never had a chance to thank that unknown dragon. _

This time he would _not _let himself go mad from hunger. He would make sure of that. But the time for such thoughts was not now, that stage was still far away from him.

_

* * *

_

There was perhaps one good thing about this whole situation. The vicious circle of hate and anger he had loved so much was broken, and he felt more at peace with himself than he had during his life.

There was still a pain and terrible notion of guilt crushing his heart, but it was somewhat bearable now.

And there was also that feeling: persistent and irritating, it was making him unable to fully concentrate. It was like a gentle pressure against his mind, almost unnoticeable, but still there. He knew that one. He felt it whenever someone special was coming.

That little human was coming, he was sure of that. When he had lain in his bolt-hole, focused on his mind and relaxed, he could feel sudden streams of emotions that did not belong to him. Today, they were especially strong.

Shade was waiting, sitting with his head turned to the direction from where he felt the human would come.

When the distant smell of fish hit his nostrils, and later**, **quiet footsteps were heard, he wasn't surprised.

He was confused.

_What are you, human?, _he thought, narrowing his eyes.

_Are you my doom…or…_

* * *

Hiccup looked down from his hiding place from which he chucked the fish. His nervousness subsided a little as he noticed that all the fish had disappeared.

"Good**, **Hiccup, everything is going well," he muttered, going down to the crevice in the stone wall, just large enough to let him pass through. He knew this area. There was no place on the island he didn't know. Trekking was his favorite activity. He could be alone with himself**, **and that reason alone was enough for him.

"You won't be eaten by a dragon in a few moments… no… just go there, give the dragon the fish and then get the Hel out…," he told himself reassuringly.

Hiccup thought of the moment when he would offer the fish to the dragon, covered behind his shield. After that, he just hoped that the Night Fury would not decide to include him in its menu. This was quite plausible, considering that the last time he had seen that dragon**, **it had tried to kill him.

"Just go there and…**, **" Hiccup said, looking at the small passage between the stony walls leading to the pit. He took one more encouraging breath.

"…and help this dragon," he breathed out.

* * *

Shade observed as a fish hit the ground, weakly chucked from the hole in the rock.

He snorted**;** if there was any older trick to lure out a hungry dragon than by throwing food on the ground, he would want to know it.

He kept hidden behind the rock pillar. His head lay flat on the rock's top, looking intently at the fish, his thoughts already on how tasty such a fish would be, right after the human left.

However, instead of running away, the human emerged from the hole, getting stuck for a moment because of the thing that humans used as a protection.

Skjald, _this is how they call them,_ Shade thought looking at the shield stuck between the rocks. He knew a lot of words that dragon-fighting humans used, thanks to his excellent memory, but he could only identify a few, mainly due to humans pointing at things and saying their name out loud during their insane conversations with each other.

The human pup tried to release the shield, but he soon gave up with a sigh.

Shade knew that this particular human was weak in his physique, but it did not change a thing. The biped in front of him was dangerous, very dangerous;only an utter fool would think differently. Physical strength was only a small part of what made an excellent warrior**, **and Shade considered the human in front of him as an excellent warrior. He had defeated Shade and**, **therefore**, **had to be respected.

Shade's tail waggled a bit. With the human entering the Pit, the dragon's curiosity rose. After the seventh time Shade could easily have jumped on and killed the hatchling, (Shade _had _counted), the human finally spotted the dragon lurking negligently behind his cover.

Shade did not want to be hidden well**: **the human clearly wanted a meeting, and he was going to get one.

The dragon jumped down gracefully**, **without a sound**, **to the ground, not letting the human out of his sight, even for a second.

He stopped for a moment before approaching and deeply breathed through his nose**, **smelling the air. Aside from the overwhelming aroma of fish, the scent of human was present as well.

_At least I am not the only one afraid here_, Shade thought huffing again. He made a few careful steps forward.

The pup holding the fish in quiet respect reminded him of the Eska he had met before he was shot down.

No human could know about long lost dragon rituals**, **but the image nevertheless gave Shade more confidence.

He stopped in front of the human at a fair distance, drew a rune on the soil**, **and then performed the standard greeting movements, showing that he did not mean any harm

He watched as the human jerked slightly and started to emanate an even stronger aura of fear, but did not run away.

The fragile-looking human stretched out the hand holding the fish in an offering gesture.

Shade wobbled his head, uncertain**;** he felt like he had experienced this before**,** and how trustful he was towards the human seemed almost scary.

He made another few steps closer to the human when a stench of metal hit his nostrils. He immediately took his defensive position, lowering his body and growling maliciously.

_Hiding the smell of the weapon behind the smell of the fish? Interesting, but it won't work on me_, Shade reasoned looking at the part of the human's hide covers from which the smell was the strongest.

The human opened his covers**, **and metal glowed in the sun light.

Shade growled again, ready to blast the hatchling if he made any threatening movement.

The human**, **however, slowly took the weapon in his paw and dropped it to the ground.

Shade wasn't reassured. He searched his memory for something that would make the human understand his caution. He jerked his head**;** it was a gesture he had seen a human soldier use when disarming. He hoped that he had made it correctly.

The human dexterously scooped his weapon up onto his hind paw.

_Ha! So how you will attack now? I am waiting! Show me your true…_, Shade's thought process was disturbed as the human's weapon plunged into the water, flipped by hatchling's hind leg.

The dragon felt himself sitting and looking at the human**,** completely and utterly dumbfounded. There were no attack, no shouting, no explosions. The human really had gotten rid of his weapon, leaving himself completely defenceless. Shade was even more surprised than when he had found out, as a youngling, that his tail was a part of his body**,** and that biting it once your teeth developed was not so entertaining anymore.

_…colours?_, he finished his thought.

He shook his head and walked closer to the human with measured steps.

_Good human; just stay like this and nobody will get hurt...I am so hungry!_ Shade thought with an opened mouth near that soon-to-be-devoured meal.

The human looked at him and said something in his tongue. Shade almost didn't notice. He was busy looking at the delicious-smelling fish, keeping his teeth retracted so he could launch his fire bolt if necessary.

With lightning speed, he ejected his teeth and grabbed the fish. Barely biting it, he swallowed it**,** savouring the taste. The human said something again as Shade smacked his lips in content, losing himself in thoughts of how good it was to eat again.

He noticed the human again, standing in front of him with a very uncertain-looking pose.

_I almost forgot about you_, Shade thought.

Trying to communicate with the human verbally was a waste of time**,** but he was more than pleased that the person had shared this meal with him. According to Shade's culture, this human was also sharing his life with him through this gesture.

The dragon marched forward**,** tilting his head and purring reassuringly, letting curiosity take over.

The human started stepping backwards, clearly afraid.

_I wonder if he likes fish as well. Is it even a he? He must be... but he is so small for a human male. And what are those funny dots under his eyes? He has funny eyes._

Shade stopped thinking as the human hit the boulder with his back and raised his hand in a defensive gesture, vocalizing something.

Shade inquisitively tilted his head more, sniffing the air. The human's scent**,** as usual**,** was very pleasant and comforting.

Shade didn't resist its effect and just stared into the human's eyes. He blinked, scolding himself mentally for forgetting the most important part of the ritual. He had to share the proffered meal with the human to show that he accepted his life-gift and shared his own life-gift in return.

He felt the remains of the fish move through his throat as he regurgitated them onto the human's lap.

Then Shade sat, mimicking as best as he could, the human's sitting posture. He huffed, feeling extremely pleased with the human's actions.

The human in question sat and looked in confusion at the fish.

Shade stared, waiting for the pup to start eating.

The silence continued, and the human remained motionless.

_Why is he not eating? He has food in his lap, is he so nervous, or he is just acting nice_? Shade wondered, looking at the hatchling, who, for some reason, didn't want to meet his gaze.

_Maybe he needs my approval? _Shade wondered. He looked at the fish and then back and the human, hoping he made it comprehensive enough.

The hatchling mimicked his movements, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth slightly.

_Most interesting! _Shade thought, gaping more intensely.

The human looked back for a moment and then, with a sigh, took a bite of the fish.

Shade tilted his head and raised his antenna-ears, hoping that human approved. It would be an extreme dishonour if the hatchling rejected his offering.

The human grimaced, and his body made a few movements, as though he wanted to return the food. He then raised the fish to the dragon.

_Swallowing is advisable,_ Shade thought, while swallowing himself. The human might not know dragon ways, but not swallowing one's food was quite weird.

The human made a few noises and then, finally, swallowed.

Shade smacked his lips, enjoying the completion of the ritual.

The dragon felt a bit of trust rise in his heart for the hatchling, who now shook his head, emitting a few sounds and baring his fangs in an expressionShade had seen quite often.

_Is he... happy? _The dragon thought. He could not miss such an opportunity to connect with the human.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to mimic the grimace as perfectly as possible.

It felt weird at first as Shade opened his mouth and tried to use the correct muscles, but, after seeing the astonished (Shade was sure it was astonishment) face of the hatchling, he kept the smile on.

Dragons had their muzzle expressions as well, but he had never done something like _this_ before.

The human, in answer, raised his clawless paw. Shade watched, thinking that it might be some other type of communication but then the human's paw started getting nearer and nearer his head.

Too near.

Shade's ears dropped a bit as the human's paw continued approaching. When it was too close, Shade growled loudly, his fangs retracted.

The human backed away, but the damage had been done and the hopeful atmosphere destroyed.

Shade took off and landed clumsily, again, after a moment.

_How could he _dare _attempt to touch me? Me!_ Shade thought, shaking his head after the small impact. He still didn't feel well after two sun cycles of self-healing, and every jolt caused him a headache.

By touching somebody it meant you were allowing them into your personal space. It was a very intimate gesture, and it was reserved only for those you truly and fully trusted. After that touch, you moved from the circle of strangers and became one of _the Athet_, a not-blood-related member of the clan, someone who shared your life and destiny.

Shade had never really believed in metaphorical explanations; he liked to keep things simple.

If you let someone touch you, and you were not clawed or bitten in the process, it meant that this somebody could be trusted and that was basically all that was to it.

Shade circled in place, shooting out a fire stream, preparing the ground for him to rest.

He lay down on the burning soil, feeling annoyed, tired, and very hungry, hoping for nothing more than for the human to leave him alone.

A small bird chirped in its nest above Shade's head. His head jerked up, looking at it.

_I miss flight..._ he thought, his eyes following the creature as it flew away.

As his head turned, he caught the glimpse of something on the ground.

His lips curled in irritation.

_I wonder which part of the "_touch-me-and-I-will-bite-your-head-off posture_" he did not understand_? Shade thought, his ears flat on his head, looking irritably at the human sitting in front of him with his legs crossed.

Shade growled, trying to put as much annoyance as he could in it, and covered his head with his tail fin.

_I can hear you move, hatchling... yes, I mean _you_!_

He could already imagine that the human was raising his paw and moving it closer and closer to Shade's hide, making Shade clutch his jaws tighter in irritation,_ Exactly what I need; malnourished humans that crippled me and are now tormenting me with their attempts to poke me with their claws! Ooh, fun, now I can die happily!_

Shade lifted his head and glared at the human, who was doing _exactly_ what the dragon had imagined.

The human pup then rose and marched away with horribly faked casual steps.

_What a weirdo_, Shade walked to one of the roots creating a reversed hyperbolic shape and climbed it, grumbling all the way, to the tip. At the top, he hung his tail with the tip down and completely wrapped his body with his wings.

He looked at the human one last time. The little creature was now gawking at him from a safe distance.

Shade huffed and hid his eyes behind the wing's membrane.

_He got what he came for, now he can go away... he surely will! _

_Well! On the other paw, if he actually stayed_, _that would mean he really did it all of this... for _me?

Shade took a descriptive little peek, barely opening one eye, trying to keep away the excitement that such a thought created.

The human was still there, as small and fragile-looking as ever, looking at the dragon.

The pup, seeing Shade look back at him, smiled broadly and made a gesture with his paw that could only be a greeting.

The dragon hid his head quickly behind his wings again, feeling irritated at himself for letting the human see him look back.

_He might think that I am... interested in him. Or_, _even worse_, _that I want to create Athet with him... he may smell nice and have kind looking eyes but... oh, but he is kind... is he still here? _

Shade looked quickly again and, upon seeing the hatchling still at the same spot he was before, a small unanticipated feeling bubbled in his heart.

He purred.

His eyes snapped open in horror.

_Did I just purr? And for a bipedal who took away my ability to fly?_

Shade eyed the human, his dragon pupils now in the form of slits, looking intently for an answer to grow out from the human's face.

The human, however, didn't supply any answer. He just started waving his paws furiously, in a friendly way.

Shade hissed loudly at this answer.

The hatchling stopped, looking scared.

Then Shade remembered something...

_That's right... my sister told me about such humans... kind and benevolent.._. _Warmer than the flame, filling more than any game, bringing serenity and a nourishing heart…_

Shade's sister's voice echoed in his mind...

"...taking away the loneliness part," he said out loud, not even realizing it until he said it.

The human, hearing him, lifted his head from his paw and looked at him, extreme interest gleaming in his eyes.

Shade hid his muzzle again, thinking. His sister often liked to talk in rhymes, sometimes saying things without any sense or trying to find that perfect rhyming word for a whole day, laughing from her failures.

She had said that Shade would understand the meaning of her words with time. She had sounded so sure of that. She had also left him just one more piece of advice...

'_Trust your_ _heart'_

Shade had never heard more trite and useless sounding advice, but he didn't have any better ideas.

_I am tired_, he thought, feeling his mind getting cloudy. He was sure that the human would not harm him.

His heart was telling him to trust that.

* * *

Hiccup looked at the motionless Fury hanging on its tail like a bat.

The youth sat cross-legged, supporting his head with his hand.

He still felt like he was in a dream; he had just fed a dragon from his hand without losing any fingers!

"I am alive..." he said, realising that undeniable and quite obvious fact.

"I am _alive_!" he said louder, but he covered his mouth fast, not wanting to wake the slumbering dragon up.

No longer able to contain himself, he got to his feet and started jumping in a completely unleashed and unbound happiness.

What had just happened contained more awesomeness that he could ever have imagined. He was the first Viking to shoot down and to survive meeting and feeding a Night Fury!

_I am the best! The Best Viking Ever! Whole nations should kneel before me_! _I am_-, he stopped suddenly, seeing the missing tail fin.

All the joy immediately wended out from him.

He had been so happy after the dragon ate the fish, so captured in that moment that maybe, just maybe the Fury would forgive him… and that dragon had been so curious!

This dragon was really turning out to be different from what any Viking would usually expect from the Terror of the Skies, the "Duck and Cover Beast".

Hiccup looked at the black body, scales glistening in the sun. He noticed that it had almost unnoticeable lighter areas on its body that created a myriad of stripes and spots, and that its scales emanated gentle hints of blue.

The Night Fury looked so beautiful and magnificent!

Hiccup gazed, spellbound, at the creature. Even though he did not have any proof, he really believed that this dragon _was _sentient and capable of feeling.

But, really, he should not feel happy. Hiccup had been spared for now by the dragon for some reason or another. That dragon was also really trying hard to interact with him by mimicking the boy's actions.

If Hiccup could only touch it, to let it know that he was sorry!

Feeding the dragon was not enough; he wanted to connect with that creature. He had lost his first chance because he had invaded the dragon's personal space and, later, he had irritated the Fury by persisting in his efforts to touch it.

"_How to screw up a meeting with a dragon in 101 ways" by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III_, he thought bitterly, sighing.

Wanting to kill these thoughts, Hiccup took out his notebook and started drawing the sleeping Fury from every angle possible, concentrating mostly on the damaged tail. His guilt pricked him, and he wanted to emphasise the tail fin in his drawings.

To help settle his feelings, he decided to take a walking tour around the Pit, finding many traces of the dragon.

Paw-prints were omnipresent on the ground, claw marks on the stones high above the ground. Hiccup saw something that the dragon must have used as its nest, with charred soil and a strong, pleasant aroma of pine resin.

_Maybe it likes the smell,_ Hiccup thought, walking to a fallen tree trunk. He then noticed something on the ground where he had met the dragon right after he had entered the cove.

Looking from the side, it resembled a few scratches on the ground, but when he looked down at it-

"What the-?" he said, watching the lines curved in the soil. They no longer seemed like random lines the dragon had made on the ground.

"It looks almost like... writing?" Hiccup said. After a moment, though, he snorted. That was a most bizarre idea! When he considered the possibility that dragons could _talk, _he snorted again and shook his head in disdain.

But then, again, what actually did he _really know_ about dragons? All Viking teachings about them focused on dragons being extremely dangerous, but the Fury had chosen to spare him today.

That type of decision required intelligence and reason and, later, when the dragon started to mimic him... it was too amazing to describe in words.

Hiccup took out his notebook and carefully copied the markings.

_I am too confident about humans being the only smart creatures, I mean us. I won't make the same mistake as the others._ There was a word about this attitude he had heard before... anthropocentrism. _I know nothing about dragons, so I shouldn't judge them too hastily, _he thought closing his notebook and sitting down on a fallen wooden trunk, looking at the sandy soil in front of him with a thoughtful expression, supporting his head with his hand.

What _did _he know exactly about this particular dragon?

For a start, he knew how it looked. It even had looked cute for a moment.

He took a stick from the ground and drew an elliptical shape.

_A head... _

_

* * *

_

Shade woke up, feeling very well rested. His headache was gone, and he did not want to open up his eyes yet, enjoying the still present drowsiness, when his nostrils pinpointed the smell of a human.

His eyes opened rapidly, and he scanned the area, hopeful for a glimpse of the human. He almost immediately noticed him, sitting on a fallen tree.

Shade purred happily, and he soundlessly jumped down to the ground from the branch where he hung.

The human had _really stayed_, and stayed for him! His sister was right! Shade just felt... happy that somebody cared enough about him to keep him company. With the idea of learning more about the human, he trotted to him and stopped behind his back. Shade's ears stood up, and a low chirp sounded in his throat as he watched the human's paw shape something in the earth, using a small wooden stick.

It was not anything Shade knew or had seen before. He looked with interest, his head following the stick's tip movement. With a few accurate and smooth motions from the stick, the drawing was taking shape with astonishing detail.

Shade's black pupils dilated, almost filling his eyes completely, and he purred in delight.

The human was drawing nothing other than Shade's wonderful-looking head!

To know that some other being was sculpturing his image was too much for Shade's lonely heart to handle. His mind filled with joy. Most of his thoughts disappeared, leaving only the idea of repaying the human in some way. He wanted to connect with this fascinating being. He no longer wanted to think about how crazy and unfeasible this might seem.

At this moment, _everything s_eemed possible!

He had an idea taking shape in his mind, spawned from his previous recollections. He was not good at showing gratitude; at least he _thought_ he was not, since he had never had a chance to show it to anyone before.

He could not think of anything better than of making this human a part of his _Athe_t.

He sprinted to the nearest small tree and grabbed it in his powerful jaws. With one twist of his head, he broke the trunk and walked back to the human, dragging the branch in his teeth.

The little human looked at this with an opened mouth and a shocked face.

Shade returned the look, his eyes shining with excitement. He knew that the human was interested even more than he, and the human was waiting. The pup had made his move; it was time for Shade's now.

Shade had never performed the ritual before, but the specifics didn't matter, the ritual was mostly symbolic.

He used the tree as his drawing tool to show the human that he wanted to connect by mimicking. The previous time the hatchling had understood his intentions, so this time shouldn't be any different.

Shade started dragging the tree behind him, making sure that its broken trunk touched the ground.

He started moving with it, shaping his own drawing. His made a straight line and then turned in place, making a circular shape around him. He continued moving ahead again, pivoting toward the human and purring with sheer felicity.

He felt himself a pup again, twisting and swirling in his ecstatic dancing, not even noticing that the tree top brushed once across the human's head.

Shade stopped and took a glance at the human. He was watching the proceedings with amazement.

Shade's heart started beating faster as he began making his pattern again, sticking the branch firmly into the ground. He soon finished and threw the tree branch aside, looking at his work with pride. Shade gave it an approving nod and chirped softly, looking directly at the human pup.

The human stood up and looked curiously at the drawings around him. The lines around the human were random. The exact shape was not important; the point was to make the human be in the centre and Shade on the outside. The lines represented the difficulties everyone must overcome. It was a maze of doubt, of distrust and the fear of the unknown.

The human was about to start journeying into a new future; he just had to be careful not to bring bad luck by stepping on a line.

Of course, the human did _exactly_ that, and Shade growled warningly.

The human lifted his leg from the line and Shade purred approvingly, but the human again touched the curve with his hind paw. Shade growled louder, putting more threat in the sound. It was disrespectful to do this action twice, after an obvious sign of disapproval!

The human lifted his leg again, looking at the dragon purred again, relaxing, waiting for the human to start, but would the human understand his intentions?

He felt tense inside and extremely unsure, but yet he was so curious and excited! Something inside his mind was telling him that everything was going to be all right.

As if to contradict this thought, the human touched the line again.

This time, Shade lowered his body in a threatening gesture and uttered a loud growl, baring his fangs and mentally cursing the stupidity of soft-skinned bipeds. Shade's heart slammed against his chest in anticipation and nervousness. This human was _really_ testing his patience!

The human, however, did not seem to feel endangered by Shade's actions, as though he knew the dragon would not hurt him.

At this point, they _both_ knew they would not hurt each other.

The human youngling lifted his leg from the line for the last time and looked into Shade's eyes.

Without any word or gesture, their stares caught each other, two lonely pairs of eyes longing for connection and understanding, so different and, yet, almost the same.

At that moment they both felt each others´ mind. For the first time, they both understood each other.

The human smiled softly.

Shade's limbs lifted, mimicking, inviting.

The small human's leg then tapped gently onto the ground, near the line, not touching it. The ritual had begun.

Shade did not think anymore. He looked hypnotised as, before him, the strange human being made another step to avoid touching a line.

The dragon's leg moved the same way, as well.

The human stepped again on a line-free area, marking his progress, getting closer.

Shade's leg moved again, trying to imitate.

The human twisted, gaining speed and confidence, proceeding forth on his journey.

Shade's head and body wobbled gently left and right in rhythm with the human's steps.

Faster and faster the human turned and twirled.

Shade's body mimicked the fast turns, unable to keep himself still.

His body shimmied with unrestrained emotions. He made a few steps to the place where he knew the human would finish and, as predicted, the human's legs emerged, stepping over the border.

Shade huffed gently at the human pup's shaggy head, letting him know that he was behind him.

The human slouched a bit, frightened.

Shade's body tensed in response; he was frightened as well.

The human's paw started ascending, his mouth opened and eyes gazing. Wishes and hopes sparkled in his gaze.

The human wanted to touch the dragon again, but this time the dragon knew that it was because of the perplexing feeling that had filled both of them; a hastened gesture from a child, hungry for acceptance.

Shade growled lightly, not able to prevent turning his head away. It was not the proper response, but he was as scared as the human was, perhaps even more.

The pup pulled his paw quickly away, realizing his mistake. He looked at his paw and breathed out, making his decision.

Shade waited; this was the most important part, and the hatchling had to find an answer to this situation on his own.

The human raised his paw again, this time turning his head away so he was not gazing at Shade. He held his paw in front of Shade's muzzle.

The dragon's eyes dilated, looking at the small and weak-looking being in front of him.

The human was letting the dragon decide what to do, leaving himself defenceless, waiting patiently for the verdict.

Shade's all thoughts were shovelled aside as the sun rays made the human's paw seem to radiate with bright light.

It called to Shade, and he felt drawn to it: a strong pull telling his body to do it.

The smell of the human was overwhelming, relaxing and alluring.

Shade closed his eyes and moved his muzzle closer to the hand, almost feeling electric sparks play on his skin as he neared.

With the last shard of his conscious mind he stopped his movement, just for a moment. And then he let the irresistible urge take him over, and he touched the human for the first time, sealing the connection.

Shade's body trembled with the soft and warm feeling of the human's touch. Even with his fire-proof skin, this touch burned with a very pleasurable feeling that radiated through his body, a soothing feeling he hadn't experienced for such a long time. It was almost like he was with his family... with his sister.

At that thought, the charm was broken.

Shade pulled back from the touch and opened his eyes, looking for a moment more at the human's paw. It was no longer glowing with light. There it was, fragile and weak as ever, but still so... reassuring.

Shade breathed out the air he did not even know he had held and blinked. His eyes changed to slits as his mind started working again.

_It was wrong... too fast... why have I…?_ he thought, looking at the human in front of him. As much as he wanted to be mad at the human for luring him into this, he was mad at himself also. And yet very glad it had happened. It all made him very confused.

_I-I need to think_, he decided clumsily and trotted to his nest, feeling the burning eyes of the human on his back. He curled and covered his head with his injured tail fin.

The human did not seek contact, but Shade heard as he walked to the lake, fished out his weapon, and then walked to the wall-hole entry.

Shade's eye-cover slipped so he could have a last glance at the human before he left.

The human was about to disappear from sight when he turned and looked back at Shade. There was a silence, but the human's green melancholic eyes held a promise that did not need any words.

The human walked up and tried to take his shield, first with his hand, then later by bashing it with his elbow.

After another blow, the shield came loose, and the human fell clumsily to the ground with a small yelp of surprise.

Shade snorted humorously.

Soon he was alone again.

A distant chirping of birds and the whistling of wind quietly measured the passing time.

"_Scelgertar."_ A long-forgotten word escaped Shade's barely opened lips.

This was a very ancient word that dragons used to call humans. Not an insulting one, but rather very warm with its resonance.

"_Scelgartar: Soul-giver_," he said, looking at the place from which the human came," This is what I am going to call you".

* * *

Hiccup vaguely remembered what had happened after he touched the dragon. It was like a dream; he didn't even know exactly how he could describe the experience as he now lay on his bed with one arm raised above his legs and the other behind his head.

He looked at his hand.

The Fury's skin had not been not ice cold or hard as rock as so many stories told.

It had been soft, like fine leather, and very warm.

Hiccup's hand fell limply to his chest. His heart was beating hard and strong. That heart had beaten so fast when he was waiting for the dragon's decision with his hand near its muzzle.

It had, amazingly, happened! The first violence-free contact between Vikings and dragons had been made!

He sighed, "What's next?"

He had no idea what would happen next but he knew that it would be a step in a good direction.

His heart told him that.

* * *

AN: That's all. Leave a few words, please.


	14. One step closer

Disclaimer: Same. ( I used ctrl+c, ctrl+v for that)

AN: First of all, here I was writing peacefully and then, I started getting reviews I would have never expected. I can only say, thanks for that and that it certainly gives a moral boost I need sometimes. I can only do my best to try and maintain the quality of my writings, but as some noticed, some chapters are better, some worse. That's all from me for now. Oh, just don't forget that I am here thanks to my betas. Fjord Mustang, Backroads and almne.

* * *

_Later the same day_

Hiccup was in the middle of another drawing of the Fury's head when a voice yelled, a voice he did not expect. Not expect to hear until tomorrow, that is.

"Hiccup!" Gobber yelled.

The named boy jerked in surprise, his pencil flying out from his hand and hitting a candle that fell on his desk.

Hiccup sprinted to the window, opened it, and looked down with a panicked look on his face.

"G-Gobber? What a... um… 'pleasant' surprise!" Hiccup said, smiling with sheepish irony and looking at the grinning face of his friend.

"I am pleasantly surprised as well, lad. It is _such_ a rarity seeing ya in th' evening at yer house. Ya have _so_ many errands to run, so many friends to visit!" Gobber said cheerfully, getting back at Hiccup for his ironic statement.

The boy could not help but smile.

"You know me! I need to hide from the mob because of my popularity. Especially from the ones wielding pitchforks and torches."

Gobber laughed freely, his silver tooth glistening in the darkening light. Up in the sky, the clouds were still pink from the setting sun.

"It ain't so bad, lad. Are ya ready for th' Grand Fire Party?" The blacksmith asked.

The gleefulness stopped for Hiccup immediately. He had totally forgotten about it. Gobber had told them about it before today's training. Hiccup was glad that he knew how to cover his mistakes.

"O-of course! You think that _I_ would've forgotten it? If you thought I would, it means that you were...wrong and you should... feel ashamed that... you...thought...that."

Gobber stood there with opened mouth and raised eyebrow, not answering the boy's call to feel ashamed. Hiccup was about to continue his elaborate excuse when he sniffed the air. It smelled as if something was burning.

Hiccup looked behind him, and his eyes widened in horror. The candle he had knocked over had fallen on one of the clean leather hides. It had taken him all the remaining afternoon to clean them from his previous drawings. He left one picture only. The one depicting his mother. It hung now on the wooden wall above the desk.

The older Viking observed as Hiccup disappeared inside the house and, after a moment, there was a sound like somebody was hitting a burning desk with an old boot.

Gobber sighed and walked inside the house. He calmly took a bucket that stood by the fireplace.

Whistling a melancholic-sounding melody quietly, he hobbled to one of the barrels outside, hearing the muffled screams and havoc in Hiccup's room. He filled the bucket and walked slowly up the stairs, stopping for a moment to admire the build of one of the shields mounted to the wall.

"Why do boots have to catch on fire as well?" Hiccup shouted from his room.

Gobber had a guess that it was perhaps due to the fact that, in order to soften it, boot leather was impregnated with animal fat.

Gobber opened the door, calmly seeing Hiccup trying to put out a fire using his fur vest. The blacksmith splashed a bit of water on the desk, extinguishing the fire in an instant.

Hiccup jumped back, and now his vest caught on fire. Gobber turned the bucket over the flaming boot and vest. After that there was just a hissing sound and Hiccup's panting.

"I would have managed... eventually," Hiccup said, looking at the charred leather.

Gobber did not say anything and took a look at the desk, mainly at the wax puddle that used to be a candle. His eyes narrowed, seeing the black shape on the vellums scattered over the desk and Hiccup's open notebook.

"What is that?" Gobber asked, trying to sound casual, showing the opened notebook to the boy. It was the page with the drawing of the Fury's gummy smile.

Hiccup's vest fell on the ground, and he felt his heart sink.

"That is a... ummm... my... new project!" Hiccup shouted in a high pitched voice and ran to the desk, grabbing every drawing he could see.

"Really?" Gobber asked curiously, looking at the pictured dragon, "Why it doesn't have any teeth?"

Hiccup stopped with his hands full of vellum. A few hides dropped to the ground.

"Because... it is how I imagine Night Furies look!" Hiccup said confidently.

Gobber's jaw dropped.

"An overly cute Night Fury... smilin' at ya? Without any...teeth?" The blacksmith said in a voice that clearly showed he was trying to convince himself with what he saw.

"Yes!" Hiccup said, chucking the drawings on his bed.

Gobber sighed.

"I was afraid this would happen someday... listen now, lad." The blacksmith gently put his arm around Hiccup's shoulders, "When you come to a certain age... you start thinking differently... I know that it must've been hard on ya to b' growing up so alone an' all. And I know you have that obsession with Night Furies... but expressing yer desire to have one as a friend is not really... healthy."

"I don't really get what you mean," Hiccup said carefully, raising his eyebrow.

"Get yerself a girlfriend," Gobber finished with an absolutely impassive voice and face, releasing Hiccup, but he stopped after a moment, "Did ya and Stoick have the 'talk'?"

This time, Hiccup's face remained emotionless," Yes."

How could he forget? His father had forced him to sit downstairs with a short "Son, I am going to explain it just once" sentence said in a voice as though he had just killed somebody. Then he showed Hiccup how _it_ is done, using two wooden dolls that you were able to tell that were humanoid only because they had two arms and two legs. In one case, three legs. Stoick was very detailed and vivid with his demonstration, breaking the third leg after another forceful push. "It shouldn't happen like that," he said, looking at the devastated puppet with a gravelly voice, "Well , maybe, the first time…"

Hiccup had a few nightmares because of that later.

"Good," Gobber answered simply as well," And no more of these toothless, cute Furies smiling at you, understand?" He said pointing at Hiccup with the drawing.

"Yes, Sir," Hiccup said, sighing and rolling his eyes.

Gobber studied the drawing for a bit more, "I know I've told ya that many times before, but ya draw really well."

Hiccup took out the drawing from Gobber's hand.

"Thanks! I should name this drawing and sell it for some money. That would bring me even more of the fame I deserve. '_Hiccup! The smiling dragon painter!'_ " Hiccup said ironically.

Gobber chuckled, catching the mood, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I would name this drawing 'Toothless'."

Hiccup looked at the pictured dragon, "Toothless...huh?"

Gobber clapped his hands together loudly, making Hiccup jump.

"All right, chop chop! We need to leave soon. Let's clean this mess now!"

After they finished cleaning up the room (thankfully that did not take too long), they both stood in the middle of it, proudly looking at the fruit of their actions.

"Um ,Gobber?"

"Yes, lad?"

"You... wouldn't have any spare boots on you, would you?"

* * *

Gobber waited outside, leaning against the house wall, wiping a small cinder fragment from the yellow shirt he had chosen for the evening's event. A small basket rested near him. Hiccup had said he had to check the attic for any spare boots and change into something nicer.

The boy finally emerged from the house. He now wore a loose green hip-length knitted sweater with the usual long collar, a finely tooled brown belt and brown leather trousers. And dark brown and very worn-out-looking boots with a dark fur cover around the tops.

"Sorry for the delay, I found a pair. They are a bit small now, but nothing I can't handle. You are not mad are you?" Hiccup asked looking into Gobber's eyes.

The blacksmith looked intently at his face like seeing something extraordinary there.

"What?" Hiccup queried, not knowing what to expect.

"I could've sworn that yer eyebrows were longer earlier today!" Gobber said and then laughed loudly. Hiccup smiled sheepishly and said in a pretended Scottish accent:

"Oh yer so funny! Laughin' will certainly make 'em grow back!"

Gobber laughed louder. Hiccup tried to change the subject.

"So why did you come to my house anyway?"

Gobber stopped laughing and started twirling his monolith of a moustache with his finger, not looking at the boy.

"I just needed help with lifting this basket. Ya know, my old bones need some rest sometimes."

_And that's why you came to the 'strongest' Viking in the village_, Hiccup thought. He knew that Gobber was quite worried about him after today's events. Hiccup did not want to spoil his good intentions.

"Well, you came to the right place! There is nothing I can't lift, after all!" Hiccup said flexing his nonexistent biceps.

"Let's get goin', lad."

They started walking to one of the guard towers that had been left empty tonight especially for the party.

"Who will be there?" Hiccup asked, trying to sound nonchalant as they passed one of the houses, heading lower into town.

"Just our training group," Gobber said cheerfully.

Hiccup knew that, but hearing it did not make him feel any better. He did not want to go there but did not have a heart to say no to his mentor.

Meeting his cousin after what had happened today would be hard; he did not even want to think of what Snotlout would do to him now. After all the emotions had settled down, Hiccup became afraid. What Hiccup had done was crazy, challenging Snotlout to a fight. Snotlout's words had made Hiccup's hatred for him blaze b brighter, but still… The challenge had been a mistake, the small, scrawny teen had no chance of winning whatsoever, and Snotlout could very well have killed him.

Most importantly, after his recent encounter with the dragon, he now felt like an alien among these soon-to-be dragon killers.

"Astrid is going to be there," Gobber said, smiling.

Hiccup almost tripped.

"S-so what?" He said, trying not to show that he actually cared about her. Aside from the blush on his face, trembling hands and stuttering he was doing great.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because ya look at her in a certain way?" Gobber asked, grinning.

"I-I would prefer to talk about something else, please?" Hiccup said flatly, almost losing his balance again.

"Why don't you just walk up to her and ask her out?" Gobber said curiously.

"I am just way too strong and handsome ... and I have so many ravishing girls and women chasing me that I have to hide in my house... you know, we beautiful-and-awesome Vikings have to do that! We even meet once a week to compare who has the hairiest chest and-" Hiccup stopped, noticing Gobber's bored expression, "Oh, come on! She is... _Astrid_!"

"So?"

"Soooo, if you haven't noticed, she tends to use her axe whenever she doesn't like something- or somebody, "Hiccup said, trying to keep his gaze directly ahead of him.

"Ah, Viking women!" Gobber said with pride and breathed in deeply.

"I have no chance anyway... ," Hiccup said, looking at the basket cover shaking with the rhythm of his steps.

"Ya, don't know 'till ya try," Gobber rumbled.

"_Yes_ I know."

"No ya don't!"

"I _do_!"

"No ya don't!

"Yes I _do_... know."

"Eh, yer so similar to Stoick sometimes," Gobber said, putting his hand on his face in defeat.

"I-I am?" Hiccup asked, excited.

"Yes, at being stubborn an' stupid at th' same time, an', for th' moment, yer th' one leading," Gobber said sternly.

"Thanks...," Hiccup muttered.

They both marched in silence for a moment when Gobber's arm stopped Hiccup abruptly, making him kiss the basket with his nose.

"Look!" Gobber hissed quietly and jerked his head towards the guard tower direction, before Hiccup had a chance to utter anything back, feeling his nose hurt.

Hiccup looked ahead, and his eyes widened.

By the wooden stairs ascending to the top, circling around the rectangular stone pillar, Astrid stood, looking like she was waiting for somebody. She wore a simple, but very pretty, mid-sleeved blue blouse with white fur bracers fastened with a brown cord around her forearms. She also had a knee-long light yellow skirt, red woollen stockings and long, light brown boots. On her neck, a simple necklace made from iron glistened with a big black opal oval in the middle. She had her hair in a bun, without the headband.

Hiccup looked speechless when the excited whisper of Gobber snapped him back to reality.

"This is yer chance, lad! Don't worry 'bout anythin'! I will make ya a perfect entrée, and ya will take it from there."

Hiccup opened his mouth a few times still seeing the image of Astrid, not registering the words the blacksmith just said.

"All right, here we go! Look sharp!" Gobber said cheerfully, giving the boy a very solid push. Hiccup felt like his legs had become cotton. He wanted to say something to Gobber in protest, but the smith was already few steps ahead of him, marching briskly. Faster than Hiccup wanted, Gobber was already near Astrid, exchanging standard greetings. As Hiccup approached, wobbling slightly because of the weight of the basket and his rising nervousness, the blacksmith turned suddenly to him and said in a clear and much-too-loud voice.

"Oh, thank ya, Hiccup! It was _so kind_ of ya t' help me carry this _very heavy _food basket!"

He took the basket from the teen's numb hands, placing it under his arm,"Ya must be so strong to be able to carry it all the way here and..., no doubt, very handsome!"

Gobber added, turning his head to Astrid and continuing with a very false sounding voice "Don't ya think so, Astrid?"

Hiccup had never wished more for a large stone to materialise above him and crush him. His face was all red from embarrassment.

Astrid, hearing her teacher's question, smiled slightly, uncertain of what that meant.

"I will go now, prepare the food and leave you alone, all right, kids?" Gobber said and winked significantly to Hiccup, grinning widely and walking backwards for a moment before turning and walking up the stairs, making the wood creak under his peg-leg steps.

There was the most awkward silence Hiccup had ever experienced.

Hiccup looked at the ground, fighting an urge to run to the nearest cliff and jump from it. He took a glance at Astrid; she was playing with her necklace, gently stroking the opal, looking at the ground as well.

_Is she... nervous? No, that is not possible; she _is_ Astrid after all_, Hiccup thought looking at her blue eyes, locked down at her boots.

Hiccup decided to say something, to defuse the tension in the air.

"Gobber certainly has a weird sense of humour! I thin-"

"Hiccup," Astrid said, interrupting the boy.

"Y-yes, Astrid?" Hiccup asked, bewildered and confused.

Astrid took a deep breath, "CanItalktoyouaftertheparty?" She burst out with insane speed.

Hiccup did not catch the exact meaning, but he guessed it was a question.

"Uh-uh?" He smiled and nodded, hoping that it was a correct answer.

"Great!" Astrid clapped her hands, beaming. It was perplexing, but very nice for Hiccup to see her beam. He rarely had seen her smile, and it just took away the rest of his ability to think.

"See you later, then!" Astrid said, cheerfully waving her hand and running to the stairs.

Hiccup stood with his jaw dropped, his posture slumped without moving.

"Wait, what?" Hiccup said to himself, his brain just comprehending the last sentence that Astrid said.

When Hiccup walked up to the tower top, all the other teens were present and Gobber was distributing the food already. Inside the basket were many kids of food: chicken, fish, lamb and vegetables separated from each other by round wooden disks.

This guard tower top was opened, its rocky walls were two and a half elbows high. A small pit lay in the middle with a large fire blazing in it, around which four pine-wood benches were placed, creating an almost-closed rectangle with a free space near the entrance.

Hiccup stepped closer, and the conversation noise suddenly stopped.

Hiccup got himself ready for this reaction and swept his eyes over the teens' faces, trying to see their emotions. Fishlegs smiled widely and waved his hand furiously, inviting Hiccup to seat near him. He wore a heavy bear vest and a grey shirt beneath. Next to him sat Astrid. She smiled a bit and flicked her head. Hiccup was relieved about this friendly support.

Ruffnut was sitting next to Astrid, and had her arm enfolded around Astrid's neck, smirking and nodding slightly, whispering something into Astrid's ear. The latter closed her eyes, blushing slightly and gave a furious elbow blow into Ruffnut's ribs.

The striken girl laughed loudly with her infectious laugh. Hiccup noticed that she was wearing a one-piece red ankle-long woollen dress and a yellow apron fastened with a red lace and nothing other than Astrid's headband on her head.

Surprisingly for Hiccup, it fit her. First, Astrid surprised him with her very feminine and lovely looking outfit, and now Ruffnut proved that she could also look like a lady, sometimes.

Hiccup took an unnoticeable deeper breath and looked at Tuffnut's face. He still wore his training clothes, and he was busy furiously skewering mushrooms and leek pieces on a wooden stick, with a big Atlantic salmon already positioned on another stick leaning against the bench.

Tuffnut was perhaps so busy with his food or, Hiccup rather thought, he simply refused to look at the newcomer.

Hiccup, lastly, looked at Snotlout. He had his training clothes on himself as well and he did not run away from his sight. Hiccup's shining, deep-green eyes met Snotlout's grey, always confident-looking eyes. They measured each other for a split moment, repugnance and condemnation clearly evident. They both had scratches on their faces, mirroring each other and created through each other's hatred.

However, it was Snotlout who looked away from Hiccup first and started conversing with Tuffnut about the food. As the party started, it turned out that Snotlout started behaving like Hiccup did not exist.

_All the better_, Hiccup thought. This way, he would not have to listen to any snarky remarks.

Soon Gobber installed the iron tripod above the fireplace and hung the large grilling plate on chains above the fire. It was ideal for cooking a fish, bread or vegetables. Walnuts or hazelnuts could even be chucked in it, and be eaten as a snack once they popped.

There were also spices you could toss on your food before you grilled it like mountain mint, salt, savory scurvy grass, dried red seaweed, garlic and pepper.

Fishlegs had brought a large sack of flat-bread with a small pot of honey-laced butter, a real delicacy.

Gobber regaled the group with a story about how to make something called _shishkabob _and how a Milklagardar trader had shown him this.

"Ya see, they used their swords to cook their food over the fire!" Gobber said eagerly. The teens, aside from Hiccup looked excited. Cooking using weapons was something no Viking would reject.

Gobber threw sliced pieces of various meats on the grill plate, stirring them from time to time with the wooden spoon on his healthy arm, and next added some garlic, salt and pepper and mixed it with onions, sliced carrot and spinach leaves.

Hiccup chatted with Fishlegs. It was quite a one-sided conversation since the bulky teen only wanted to talk about dragons. Hiccup listened, really interested. He wanted to know more about dragons, no matter if most of it were probably just crazy stories made up to scare people.

He also was happy that, after today's events, he had somebody to talk to normally. None of the teens or Gobber mentioned the morning training; all seemed busy discussing other topics, sporadically bursting into laughter from a silly teenage joke or another of Gobber's bizarre stories. Hiccup was very grateful for that.

Soon, mead flasks appeared out from nowhere. Hiccup suspected it was the work of Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Gobber was not austere about it. He just warned to not to get drunk since tomorrow they would need to train again - and then asked for the first cup.

Hiccup enjoyed the party, talking with Fishlegs and eating until there was a new topic for the stories- ones about killing a dragon and the glory and respect it brought to the slayer.

Hiccup's smile quenched as he heard Fishleg's random stuttering that, even unorganised, carried a very clear message.

The night laid out its murky cloak, sinking the land in darkness. The fire danced, the shadows jumped over the faces of the youths, and the light sparkled inside almost every pair of eyes, a light that did not come from the flame but instead were the sparks of exhilaration and joy that killing one of those scaly, murderous beasts would bring.

What an honour that would be!

Hiccup kept his gaze averted, now feeling downcast. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head. He had almost forgotten that he was among people whose biggest dream was to take another creature's life away.

Just like his used to be.

Gobber looked interested, adding his remarks, helping with his knowledge, but his eyes were not glistening in joy. They were calm and sober.

He had heard many, many young people speak so eagerly of the same thing, and he knew how few would be able to tell the same joyous tale in the all-to-soon future. These eager younglings would soon enter into that prison of continuous and never subsiding battles with dragons and raiders.

Life always corrected the idealistic views of the young people, sooner or later.

The tales continued with an accompaniment of laughs and clangs of mugs.

Hiccup looked at the fire, not concentrating on the things his colleagues were saying. The small fish he had been roasting over the fire on a stick had already turned into a bulb of coal, neglected by him.

Hiccup's head jerked at Gobber's voice, as his friend gestured with a roast chicken leg.

"I lost my hand t' a dragon many years ago, but th' funny thing is, that I lost my leg just a month later t' another one, what would you know?"

"I would squash those dragon's heads for that!" Snotlout said, his features twisted in fury.

Gobber took a large gulp of his mead and wiped his mouth with a sleeve.

"No-no, don't waste yer energy trying to hit the head! A dragon is going to defend its head most furiously knowing one hit on it can kill it. The most important part for ya t' strike on a dragon's body are th' wings and tail. Because a downed dragon..."

Hiccup's heart beat faster and his eyes widened in fear. Based on his recent experiences, he knew the finishing line.

"...is a dead dragon," Gobber finished, looking at Snotlout.

Hiccup might have seen Astrid rise from her seat, but he was already jumping two stairs at once, sprinting down. Astrid walked out for a moment from the tower's top, hearing only the disappearing thuds of Hiccup's boots and the creaking of wood as he rushed.

Her eyes shone with disappointment as she walked back to the circle of light.

Hiccup's footsteps echoed on the empty streets of Berk while he ran. He was heading towards his home, to get his notebook and all the Fury's pictures he had drawn. Even driven by emotions, he found he could now reason clearly and calmly.

He had a plan that had been germinating since he saw the dragon without its tailfin. The idea had hatched fully by observing Gobber with his artificial limbs. Gobber had lost a part of his body, and he had created his prosthetic limbs to adapt.

Hiccup needed to replace a lost body part- in the Fury's case, half a tailfin. It was both a starting and ending point.

Hiccup had absolutely no idea how the fin influenced the flying or if there were other special properties to it than its build. The only thing he could do was to replicate the tailfin as perfectly as he could.

He stormed into his room and grabbed the first leather sack he saw and started chucking in all the vellum pages from the desk, adding a few pencils and his notebook from the bed. Almost falling down the unlit stairs, he ran to the forge.

Inside, barely stopping, panting heavily and forehead sweating , he automatically pulled his dragon skin blacksmith's apron over his formal evening clothing and added a few logs of wood into the small fire. He used the large bellows with their tip (bellows is plural)directed at the fire, pressing the handle down with the strength of his entire small frame.

The surge of air soon started a large fire. Hiccup slammed open the doors at the end of the forge, opening his designing room. Gobber used to use it as storage, but had also given it to Hiccup so he could design his projects and be able to work on them at the same time.

Hiccup turned the sack upside down and strewed his drawings across the board. The room was small, and the light came from a few oil lamps that were now hastily lit by the boy.

On the left side from the entrance, a large wooden board made from polished wood and inclined at a forty five degree angle served as a drawing board. On the wall just above, a large piece of vellum hung, where Hiccup could mount his design modifications.

At the left of the desk, a narrow pail stood with many instruments: rulers, protractors, compasses and many more tools, long forgotten. The array stretched from various hammers to chisels to some needles stuffed into a piece of leather.

Hiccup skimmed over his drawings with feverish eyes, taking only those with a tailfin, the rest allowed to pile up on the floor.

He started drawing the base of the tailfin, visualizing a metal bar with five flattened places, in equal intervals from each other, where he could install the screws in a socket, connecting the rods that would serve as a skeleton for the leather.

The design now ready, Hiccup grabbed the vellum and ran into the forge room. He looked at the bended and broken weapons heaped by the fireplace, searching for the proper piece of metal. He finally decided upon a broken sword blade which length was adequate for his needs.

He started working on it, fire-heating and hammering the metal until it was changed into the shape he desired. He cooled it down in a bucket of water and, as he took it out, he scrutinized it, looking for any impurities or imperfections. He repeated the same process from similar broken sword pieces, now forming the rods that would represent the tailfin bones.

After he was done, he connected the rods with screws he had pulled from old shields, but adding to each a carefully designed and weighted top screw based on a new design of his. It was only his guess, but he wanted this construction to be as balanced as possible.

He chose tanned deerskin for a covering, since he was afraid that using dragon hide would be very inappropriate. He cut a pattern in the deer hide and connected it together with a strong deer sinew thread. As a finishing touch, he made a leather cover that would not only protect the mechanism against water, but would also grip the dragon's tail for more stability and balance.

After installing a leather belt to wrap and mount the fin around the tail, he lifted his work, opening and closing the artificial tailfin a few times as a test.

Everything was working perfectly, and he would've felt proud of himself, had he had the time for that.

He opened the forge window and noticed that it was already getting brighter. With a rising nervousness, he started cleaning, throwing the things he didn't use and tools inside the storage room, barely noticing what was he doing. The possibility that the tailfin would work was blocking out all his other thoughts.

He ran from the forge, just to return hurriedly with the blacksmith's robe in his hand. After hanging it up, he sprinted out again but stopped with the tailfin pressed against his chest. He had forgotten that the Night Fury wouldn't be delighted to have him doing something to its tail. Hiccup was sure that it would end up with him as the next meal for the dragon. He needed something to make the dragon understand his intentions... or to divert his attention. There was only one thing Hiccup could think of.

_I hope you are as hungry as I think you are_, he thought, sprinting to the docks.

* * *

The room was soaked in an orange glow shooting out from the fireplace with its small fire blazing peacefully in it. Only the circle around the fireplace was lit, the rest was covered in darkness.

On the wall above the fireplace a shield hung, looking old andmauled , but the most peculiar thing about it was that it was almost severed in half by a long scratch that went through it, with two more accompanying on the sides, telling the story of what creature did it.

By the fire, in a high seat, curled up with half her face covered in loose blond hair, Ruffnut slept, still dressed in her party clothes. In front of the fire, a bench with a high backrest had been changed into a simple bed with blankets and a pillow. Gudlaug, the twin's mother, rested there. Her breathing was irregular, her cheeks unnaturally red, and she wheezed from time to time, the strong smell of alcohol spreading from her body.

The door creaked open as somebody walked in, letting some of the cool night air inside. The door closed, and the figure started moving towards the fire. The light fell on the person standing in front of Ruffnut, tottering, with a mead flask in one hand.

Tuffnut looked at the scene in front of him and grinned with contempt. He leaned for the blanket laying beneath Ruffnut's chair. For a moment it looked like he wanted to cover his sister with it, but he stopped suddenly when his mother snored loudly. His teeth glistened predatorily with whiteness, and his eyes narrowed with anger. He threw the blanket on his sister with all the force he could, making her fall off the chair to the ground with a small crash.

Ruffnut awakened instantly. Rubbing her head, she stood up, looking at her brother with fury.

"What the fuck was that for?" she hissed in a threatening whisper.

The realisation came to her fast, though. She had a few matters to explain to her brother and, as she saw in what state he was, she added few more to the list.

Her knuckles were going to hurt tonight!

"You said that you would be back right after the party! Where have you been?"

Tuffnut hesitated for a moment with a blank face and completely unfocused eyes, as if he needed a time to analyze the question. A blissful smile blossomed on his face.

"An' wha- whoat does it looks like I was doin', sis? I was drinkin'!" After a moment of a heavy thought, he added, " Yo-you stupid twat."

Ruffnut's hand whisked and her fist hit Tuffnut's jaw. He fell flatly on the ground. His helmet fell of his head and struck the floor soon after his body, rolling away into the darkness.

Ruffnut was clearly furious; she grabbed her brother by his jacket and pulled his face close to hers.

"I can see that, you imbecile! How could you have drunk so much tonight? Have you swapped your head with your ass? Tomorrow we're fighting dragons again! _Dragons_, you half-brained troll! How do you think you'll fight them in such state? Do you want to die?" She tried to whisper but her voice got louder as she spoke, her eyes shining with fury.

Tuffnut remained still for a moment, then he chuckled.

"What is so fucking funny?" Ruffnut asked, strengthening her grip.

"It almost sounds like you care and... and that was quite _fucking_ funny if you ask me, " Tuffnut spoke in a clearer voice, his mind refreshed a bit by the punch, " I do not remember since when you decided you were the head of house here... like there is anyone responsible left in this house," he said pointing his finger at his sleeping mother.

Ruffnut did not answer anything, but her features softened a bit.

"Oh- sorry for not coming earlier to the house", Tuffnut said, "It was my turn to watch over our mum tonight, wasn't it? So she doesn't die in her own spew accidently..."

Ruffnut threw him on the ground again, then both of them remained silent.

"And?" Ruffnut finally said, her eyes filled with anger, no longer completely emotionless, "This is how we need to live now, and we need to deal with it. You only act like that because you cannot stop crying over those that are dead-"

Tuffnut jumped to his feel and swung his fist to hit his sister, just to be blocked and thrown by Ruffnut over her shoulder. He thudded on the ground with a gasp.

"You are in no state to fight me, and I won't let you be in even worse shape to fight a dragon."

Saying that, she kicked the mead flask into the fireplace. The flask broke with a crack and the liquid enhanced the flames for a moment, illuminating the whole room for a moment.

Tuffnut got to his feet unsteadily and clenched his fists, ready to hit his sister. Ruffnut took a battle stance, her eyes again devoid of emotion.

Her brother shouted, gesticulating widely.

"How you can be so calm! Our father is dead, we can die at this training and all our lives are about dodging fireballs or blades and watching over _her_!" He pointed his finger at his sleeping mother again, "How you can just stay there with this face! Don't... don't you miss Dad at all?"

Ruffnut's expression did not change. She watched her brother panting in front of her with shining eyes. She knew what this getting-drunk was all about, and she could not blame him. However, she could not answer that question.

"Answer me!" Tuffnut yelled taking a step forward.

She just did not know the answer.

Tuffnut seeing an impassive face, clenched his fists and got ready to spring forward.

"Kids you mustn't fight," Gudlaug's drowsy voice sounded. The Twins twisted their heads to the bench. Their mother was still sleeping, talking through her dreams, "Be nice to each other... you always liked to play together... go play outside. Just don't run too far, so I can see.. you...," She started breathing calmly, sleeping again.

The twins lowered their arms, all the tension disappeared, replaced by bitter feelings.

Ruffnut turned and marched to the stairs, heading to her own room.

"You should be more afraid...," Tuffnut said quietly, taking the seat and covering himself in the same blanket his sister used.

Ruffnut neared her room and pushed the door handle.

Her hand was trembling.

* * *

Shade could not sleep at all. To make things worse he could not think, either. In addition, he was very hungry.

The moment when the human touched him was still in his mind, and he could not even rationalise it to himself. He lay in front of the pond, looking blankly at the stone-crack in which the human had disappeared.

_What happened here? That human... Scelgertar, he has a dangerous effect on me... it's dangerous, it must be... I am letting myself be vulnerable, my senses are impaired... why is that?_

_I've met humans before, observed them and nothing like this happened ... I've never heard of such thing before. Wait, I have, but not about such affect... my sister told me about it, but only about the nature of humans... how did she know that? Maybe she imagined it, IT's power was making many lose their minds...no, she was strong and well-trained... so why? Did she meet a human and... tame it? No, that's ridiculous... there was no rule saying you couldn't get close to humans._

_After they came in their ...knörr, the first-speakers of each clan had decided to keep the contact with them to minimum, but there was no rule that completely forbid you to get close to them. There were few individual exceptions_, _but they always ended in humans trying to kill the one responsible... always without success... humans were weak... they are still weak, but ...maybe there was something my sister didn't tell me?_

His right ear-antenna started twitching. It was always a reaction when he was pondering something and getting nervous.

_She always told me about everything, but that day... she was different... she wasn't her ludicrous self... she was distant and pensive... the only reason I thought of why she acted like that was that she somewhat knew...felt that she was going... to leave us,_ Shade lowered his eyes looking at his tailfin, curled by his muzzle.

His gaze swept over the amputation wound, now replaced by a dark scar tissue. That healing was only possible due the mind-accelerated regeneration.

Shade absently started waving his tail-tip slowly in front of his eyes. He knew that he could not make his tailfin grow back. His body simply did not have such ability in the first place. All he could do was to quicken the body healing process.

_The feeling is still there... I can still sense the missing tail fin...and I do not feel angry about it...I do not hate...that human for what he has done...my heart does not ache anymore... it feels so nice._

His mind drifted to the moment when the human touched him. His tail stopped moving lazily and he growled quietly.

_Stop thinking about it, it did not mean anything... it was just something irrelevant. You just lost control over yourself; not the first time it happened to you...it was just a moment of weakness... and you have had a lot of them lately,_ he huffed on this auto-irony,_ I am still as I used to be, strong, fast and cunning. That human touch was nothing, it didn't feel nice at all...and I am not feeling happy because of that! I do not like his smell or his eyes,_ Shade tried to manage believing what he thought.

He started playing with his tail-tip again,_ Who am I kidding? I am not in the position to play the lie game... I enjoyed the touch... it's been so long since somebody has touched me without wanting to kill. As much as I try to deny_ _it, I would not mind him coming here again. As perplexing as it is_, _I am sure that he is going to be back ...how my sister knew about it I do not know, but observing the human would not hurt... me at least ... what I have left to do_, _anyway? _

_Being fed by a human is pathetic_, _but as my _Lifdagarkennarar_ used to say_, _'as long as you are alive the fight continues, only death can stop it'._

_Besides... I've just made that little walking disaster a member of my Athet, I need to take responsibility for him._

Shade's ear started to twitch again as he closed his eyes, knowing very well that the human was coming.

* * *

Hiccup walked through the forest, hearing the lumberjacks working, shouting to each other, swearing acutely every second word.

The boy had a large basket strapped on his back and the tailfin gripped in both hands.

Everything had gone smoothly so far.

He went to the docks and asked the fishermen if he could take one of the baskets with fish, standing near the ship. The Vikings had a very unwelcoming face expression, but as soon as Hiccup said that he wanted them to feed the dragons, they let him take the basket without a word.

Hiccup guessed that it was due more out of respect for Gobber than to refuse the Chieftain's son.

On his way, Hiccup nicked a smoked eel, drying on a string and dangling from a rafter along with smoked lamb meat from one of the houses.

Hiccup knew that the Fury liked fish, but what fish exactly, he was not sure.

He preferred to be prepared as much as possible, since he was about to do something even more crazy than before. He had a tailfin, but it would not fasten itself to the dragon's tail without Hiccup's help.

The plan was simple. Go down to the Pit, distract the dragon with the fish, go to its tail as it eats, attach the tailfin and...

_...and let's see what happens_, he thought, walking deeper into the woods, feeling more frightened as he came closer to the Pit.

He had no idea if that tailfin would work or not. He was the first Viking in history to make a missing piece of wing for a crippled dragon. First to down a Night Fury, first to see one, to meet one and survive... and the first to touch one.

He looked at his palm, remembering the feeling of Fury's skin beneath his fingers. It was the only thing reassuring him that today might not end with him dead.

The dragon's actions meant something. He did not yet know what, but he was sure that this gesture was something big, something very important.

Hiccup did not want to destroy the fragile cease-fire with the dragon by touching it again without its permission, but he was sure that it would not let him touch its tail, especially since it had a wound there, and one inflected by Hiccup.

The teen did not see any other options; he wanted to help the dragon, and he prayed that his intentions would be understood, before he ended up as the Fury's meal.

_Just think of it as a harmless, cute dragon... it does not have _a_ big, razor sharp claws that could slice me in half... or fangs that can snap trees._

Hiccup sighed; it only made him queasier of what would happen. He stopped near his final destination and took out his notebook to look at the one drawing of the Fury that would help him get his composure back.

Keeping the tailfin under his armpit, he leafed through it, stopping at the drawing that Gobber had made fun of.

Hiccup smiled, looking at the dragon's grin. If that was not a sign that the dragon did not mean him harm anymore, he did not know what would. As if seeing it for the first time, he thought for a moment about what happened yesterday, without any fear. What that dragon had done for him was the warmest and kindest thing anyone had done for him for a very long time.

He had crippled that magnificent beast and yet it did not kill him, but rather showed that it wanted to know more about him.

_Almost like it forgave me already_..., Hiccup's mind supplied. His heart started beating louder, and a very warm feeling filled his body.

_The dragon... able to forgive such a thing, it's almost unreal_.

He kept looking at the Fury drawing, but he shook his head and closed the notebook loudly.

_No! It is just my wishful thinking. What I have done _is_ unforgivable_, _and I can't forget that whatever decision that dragon takes today, it will reflect it. It is a sentient, intelligent and emotional being, as hard as it is for me to accept that fact, _Hiccup breathed out, looking at his hand again,_ I trusted it yesterday that it would not harm me... I should trust it again..._

Hiccup contemplated for one last moment, before entering the Pit, whether or not to try explaining to the dragon what he was planning to do.

He bit his lip and swiped his hand through his hair.

_But I need to trust myself as well... I am sorry... Toothless._

* * *

Silly story time!

From 'Rejected chapters for "The truth is a Shard of Ice"

**AN: This storyis cool! Soo cool that i dont know what t write about it! but it is cool i promize! i dunno also why i publish it but i do! i ate ice cream as i wrote it!i m so random i dont know what imm doing! i donnow from where i got idea for this chapter as well! I dont know a lot of thingsXD! Dont get mad if it's no good. also do not put any crititicisinng ( how its speeled?;D) reviews! i wana a lot of good reviews, no bad ones! i like gettin only good ones coz they make me feel good about myself nd make me feel like awesome writer! i also wwont publish any new chapters if i wn't get five reviews for each chapter! five ? lets make 10 ! no 20! 20 for each chapter! im so random tee-he! Remember to review or else!**

"you never understand me!

"i wont understand a useless brat like you, ever!" Stoick shouted at hiccup

"i hate you!" hiccup shouted to his father and ran to his room. he cried. He was beaten up by his father becuse he was useless as VIking and beaten up by others. astrid was the worst. hiccup wanted to finish this sufferings. There was also Mary S. that always wnted to help him but it was to much for hiccup to handle.

When hiccup cried a lot on his room. room was big. He cut himself again hoping to bleed to death. he never managed because cuts were too shallow. he cried more then thinking how useless he was and that nobody understood or luved him. **AN: I liked this moment! i got this idea after my mom didnt give me my allowance and we had a quarel!**

Because luv is important in everybody lifes.

hiccup cried alone in his room. the room was big.

**AN: remember! review or else!and i wanna 20! for tomorrow!and make me feel good about myself!now! now! now!**

Buh-bye!:*

* * *

AN: I had to change the style from the above to my currant one, current... sorry. I like currants by the way. Red ones. I will also add some more lines to this silly story later. Right now it is 4 am and I need to go to bed.


	15. Testimonies of Trust

Disclaimer: I think I will stop putting it here.

AN: A bit longer chapter. My biggest worry is that this story might become angsty. If that happens I will brush my teeth to death.

* * *

_Scal_gertar emerged again from the wall-crack and slowly approached Shade's curled body with a clearly defensive posture. He had something big on his back. Shade had seen these things before; they were used as a container.

The smell that made him drool, unmistakably indicated what was inside. To say the dragon was starving was an understatement. He was barely able to contain his instincts from jumping at the fish-smelling thing. However, he did not want to show the human that he could be satisfied with petty food. Actually, he_ could,_ and he knew that very well. He was not in the position to complain, but pretences should be maintained.

Scalgertar sung something, like he was calling somebody. It did not take a dragon genius to know who he was calling.

The Fury stood up carefully, making sure to keep his distance, looking at the human's paws. The pup was not carrying any weapon, none that Shade could see or smell and even if he could, the dragon would have been too busy smacking his lips to notice. The human took off his fish-smelling container and, after placing it on the ground, he kicked it, strewing the contents, saying something along the way.

Shade's tail waggled slightly at the beautiful sight scattered in front of him. So much food... for him? He looked at the human, and he could not hold back the anticipating look on his muzzle. The continuous smacking of his lips, his frantic eyes, the mesmerised stares at the fish; all this might have betrayed his real condition.

Just a bit.

Scalgertar started picking up the fish and presenting them, saying something as he lifted each of them. Shade was getting crazy from hunger, still a bit wary of the human, yet trusting him about the food.

That image was destroyed, however, as the human picked up the dark body of the most poisonous, deadly, most offensively malodorous animal ever known to dragon. Even though its skin was, for unknown reasons, dark instead of being striped with yellow and black, there was no mistake.

Shade felt that the human did not have ill intentions, and he badly wanted to eat the other fish, but he still reacted on instinct. Shade's body recoiled, and he screeched loudly with unfolded wings. That fish was responsible for all that was evil in the world. It was rumoured that those who survived the Terrible Poisoning lost all their scales and became impotent. All the more to be whole-heartedly terrified. Even without eating it, the smell was unbearably agonising. Shade had never eaten one or seen anyone eating it, but the smell told the story how evilishly evil that thing was.

_Contrive that befouled abomination out of my sight! _He thought, knowing very well the human would not understand him. Shade did not even know how he knew to use such archaic phrases like this. When he became nervous, he tended to use words he did not even know he had learned. One of the downsides of having an almost absolute memory.

The human, noticing his behaviour, reacted nervously as well, putting a hand in front of Shade in, what seemed, a soothing gesture. He threw the Root of All That is Evil away.

Shade huffed and shook his head, trying to get rid of the foul smell. The human stepped aside; normally the dragon would have never let anyone flank him, but he risked to trust this human; he wanted to cling to that feeling of mistrust, but there was almost no reason left to doubt the human's support.

Without any additional thought, Shade started devouring the fish, barely chewing them, zestfully losing himself to the flavour.

_Food tastes much better after a near death experience! But I am not going to try it again_, he joked, feeling much better after finally eating something decent. He immersed his head inside the container, absorbing any fish in his way as he proceeded forward with one small step. His tail moved around a little from all the joy he experienced. Such a simple thing, and yet it could bring so much happiness!

His mind was already in the fish paradise when he felt a pressure on the scar where his tail fin had been. He raised his head rapidly, the basket still on it, eyes wide opened in shock and ears flat on his neck. It was weird since Shade had been brain-blocking all perception coming from the tail, hoping that his mind would stop deceiving him, giving false signals that his tail fin was still present.

It did not help much. The basket dropped, and he moved his tail. He unblocked the nerves on his tail tip and moved it.

There _was _something there, right where there should be nothing! His wings and jaw dropped at the same time.

His tail felt also heavier, but his brain already clicked on, congratulating Shade for his unimaginable genius and skills.

_I knew that it could be regenerated! I am so good, that I didn't even notice it happening_! He thought boastfully. His logic had been shovelled aside by the euphoric state from the decent meal and a not-so-prudent possibility of re-growing body limbs.

He spread his wings slowly, feeling the rigid muscles work.

He bent his legs and with a mighty jump, he lifted off, flapping his wings forcefully. It worked at first, but just for a moment though. Gravity reminded him about its existence, and Shade started to fall towards the ground with a shriek of fear. He did not dread many things, but not being able to control your own flight ranked up there along with not being able to breathe properly; it was petrifying.

Just as he was about to hit the ground, he felt his tail fin produce resistance against the wind. He bent his body into a bow and, after almost swooping the grass on the ground, he started ascending almost vertically towards the sky.

He roared in joy, there was his freedom, his objective and reason, his everything! His momentary happiness was disturbed as, against his will, he banked sharply to the right, making a half loop and descending, heading towards the Pit again.

He looked behind after his emotions dropped a bit; it was something he should have done in the first place. On his tail was nobody else but Scalgertar, doggedly holding his tail.

Shade's eyes narrowed with irritation instead of fury; he wanted to do something about that biped hindering his grand escape. He was soaring now above the Pit's pond. He focused his mind, getting his cool back.

_Throwing him into the water shouldn't hurt him_, was his first thought. He even gave it a second thought about how weird it was for him to care about the human's comfort, or why the pup had decided to ride on his tail.

Shade firmly lashed his tail, and the human flew towards the water with a scream, bouncing and rolling a few times before sinking.

Shade took a last glance at Scalgertar.

_Farewell, human youngling and th_-, was all Shade managed to think and flapped his wings once, when he felt himself falling as well. With a shriek of surprise, he looked at his tail, noticing a brown and completely alien-looking thing attached to his tail. It was all he managed to see as he crashed on the water surface. The water got into his lungs, drowning the screech.

With a sharp movement of his wings, he emerged to the surface, coughing and spitting the water out. Then he looked at Scalgertar to whom he had felt so grateful just a moment ago.

The human was whooping from a joy that only increased Shade's rising irritation. The pup, noticing the dragon, smiled at him with bared teeth, and the Fury answered with a smile that made him look like a very hungry-looking shark.

Suddenly the human stopped his blaring and began looking terrified.

Both of them looked at each other without any sound.

_That's when you run away begging for a swift death, hatchling_! Shade thought, and he growled loudly.

The human, as if on command, started fluttering his hands ferociously, heading for the shore. The dragon, with a loud roar, swam after. Shade had to admit that the human was quite a good swimmer- for a human, of course.

He managed to get to the shore and even make one step. He was about to make another one when Shade's tail twisted around the human's ankle. Scalgertar gasped, but he did not resist as Shade raised him from the ground, making him dangle upside-down.

The dragon turned the human and looked into his face. The pup had a very sheepish smile on his face.

"Góður dreki!" Scalgertar said.

Shade's grin widened even more.

The human scowled, seeing that this could not mean anything but sinister intentions.

_I hope that he didn't call me what I think he did. A ...good dragon?_ His eyes glistened dangerously, and the human gaped, _I am going to show you how "good" I am_. _So "good" that it will make you squeal, not necessarily from joy._

* * *

Hiccup was terrified. Looking into the Fury's eyes and talking to it like to a sheep or goat was maybe not such a good idea.

Since treating a dragon like an animal was a mistake, he instead tried to reason with it. He wanted to do something to make the dragon not bite his head off.

"I-It is not what you think it is!" Hiccup yelled into the dragon's face.

The Fury stopped grinning and looked back with more relaxed eyes.

The boy, treating it as a sign of interest, continued, "All right, maybe it is what you think it is, b-but there are v-very good reasons behind it!"

The Fury tilted its head, looking more bored than interested, now.

"You _could_ fly, right?" Hiccup gesticulated to the tail fin; the dragon's eyes followed and narrowed when looking at it.

_Is it thinking about it? This is my chance_! Hiccup thought, but before he could continue with his fiendishly clever plan to persuade the dragon not to hurt him, the Fury trotted to an open area of the canyon and looked around as if checking something. Then, making sure that the boy was looking at its muzzle, it smiled maliciously with bared fangs.

"N-n-no! W-we can still talk about this!" Hiccup shouted, stammering and gesticulating with his hands for the dragon not to do it whatever it intended.

The Fury, in answer, whirled in place and, with a fluid motion sent the boy flying high in the air. Hiccup screamed in pure terror, stopping for a moment as his ascent ceased. For a captivating instant he felt like he was flying, but with the falling, he started yelling again. In his mind, he already saw himself splattering on the ground beneath.

He was near the ground when his vision was covered by blackness. If dying was painless, soft, and had a leathery feel to it, then this was it.

Hiccup was not even able to think about being surprised when he bounced from the 'blackness' and landed on his bottom. He was now tensed, his eyes closed, when the fact that he was still breathing hit him.

He opened his eyes just to see a dragon showing off its toothy grin. Its pupils were dilated and it did not look furious at all. It took a moment for Hiccup to understand what happened, recalling the memories.

He was tossed in the air like a ragged doll.

Check.

He screamed.

Double check.

He was almost near the ground when...

"No way," Hiccup breathed out with his jaw hanging, noticing the outstretched wings of the dragon. The boy had been chucked from one side of the Pit to the other, just to be bounced off the dragon's unfolded wing. He was not hurt, not even scratched.

That dragon had not only managed to sprint from one side of the canyon to the other faster than anything Hiccup knew, but it also was agile and skilful enough to make Hiccup slow his descent on the wing's membrane. If the boy had hit, for example, any wing bone, he would have most probably died.

Hiccup could not think of anything more because the Fury grabbed him again by the ankle.

"Toothless, no!" He only managed to scream before the dragon swirled with an insane speed and threw him again in the air.

His "Bad draaaagggon!" shouting slowly faded away as he flew to the other side of the cove.

He saw the Fury run beneath him as he slowly revolved in the air, already taking its position with extended wings. Hiccup squealed in a very girlish voice he did not even know he was could produce as he landed and bounced again from the wing in an almost perfectly mirrored image of the previous landing. He even dropped off on the same buttock.

"Please, t-that's enough, Toothless," Hiccup said in an imploring voice.

The Fury looked even more relaxed, tail waggling and body fidgeting from the enthrallment.

"Pretty please?" The boy said without any conviction.

As expected, his well-aimed pleas went unanswered.

Trying to act composed, he let himself be lifted again and the same routine followed.

This time the dragon gave out low rumbles as it caught him. Hiccup slid down the wing and landed on his legs, looking at the clearly beaming beast. Hiccup could swear it was even laughing.

Hiccup could not even make a step, watching the playful dragon in complete astonishment. He had to repeat the word "playful" in his head a few times to believe it. The fear of the skies, the biggest village terror (aside from Hiccup's playing with explosives), was actually _playing_ with him!

That the Fury was using him as a small thing it could toss around was a different matter. To see a dragon happy just solidified his resolve to help it. Hiccup was alive, not injured in any way; it was a clear indication that the Fury did not want to hurt him, even after him messing with its tail.

Hiccup smiled lightly; even though his wet clothes were making him feel cold, sipping away the heat, he felt very warm inside his chest.

He was tossed into the air again, but this time he managed to laugh a few times, hoping that he would be caught.

Next time, he did not even hope. He _knew_ that he would be safe, and he laughed carelessly and more loudly with every passage he made. The Fury laughed in its own way, tongue lolled out as it sprinted again to catch the human, joy radiating from its body with every movement.

Hiccup would have never guessed that he would end up as a plaything for the dragon, and that he would not mind it, as dangerous and above the level of insanity that was. He did not remember when he had laughed so hard before in his life!

His house was always filled with silence. On those rare occasions when Hiccup was alone with his father, he was afraid to talk to him, even to make eye contact. Instead, he gazed at his food plate. He did not want to see another disappointed look on his dad's face. His father did not seek his son's gaze, either. They were both ashamed of the same person. Stoick of Hiccup. And Hiccup of himself.

The boy jumped off the velvety wing to the ground after another toss. Even feeling queasy and dizzy he smiled widely, stomach already hurting from so much laughter.

His eyes met the Fury's, both their sounds of mirth filling the cove, but when Hiccup lifted his leg encouragingly to the dragon, its light-hearted grumbling dissipated slowly, until it disappeared completely. The Fury's eyes stopped shining with excitement, as if realising something important.

Hiccup soon followed, his nervousness blossoming gradually. This was something new for both of them.

The dragon turned its head away, looking at the curled tail and the tail fin with Hiccup's invention on it. After a longer moment, it breathed out slowly as if giving something away. For any other person that would have looked like a simple exhalation without any meaning. But Hiccup knew, _sensed _that there was much more to it.

Then the Fury looked back at the boy, its eyes shining again, this time with interest and demand. The Fury moved a step forward, its muzzle in front of Hiccup's face. The boy did not tense or feel fear, only restlessness not to mess up something again.

The dragon waited patiently, not showing any sign of hostility.

Hiccup's hand wandered to the place where his heart was; he knew what to do. He instinctively felt what this dragon wanted now.

"Hiccup," He said quietly but firmly, holding his hand on his chest.

The dragon grumbled low and nodded slightly. Hiccup then raised his hand above his head, keeping it at the Fury's head level. It lowered its sight for a moment, as if considering something. It returned to gazing at the boy again, its lips elevated in a small smile, and it shook its head left and right a few times with a human-like gesture of negation.

"I see... you don't have a name...," Hiccup said, barely controlling his teeth not to clatter from cold; his body was already shivering. The boy bit his lip, looking down, not knowing what to do when he felt a smooth presence on his palm.

He gasped, seeing the Fury put its head on his hand. Hiccup's palm glided over the dragon's muzzle skin, smiling warmly. He stopped and rested his hand on its nose.

"Toothless," Hiccup said, forgetting about the entire world, seeing only the accepting being in front of him.

Toothless broke the contact and grinned again. Before Hiccup was able to do something, he was hanging again, held by his ankle.

"Toothless, I need to go to the training! N-no no no, don't even _think_ about it! Don't bend your legs, no Toothless, no!"

The dragon swirled, and Hiccup flew, his "Bad draaaaaaagggon!" shout fading into the distance again. Toothless gazed as Hiccup crashed with a mighty splash in the middle of the pond. Soon the youth's body surfaced and it spoke weakly.

"That hurt."

Hiccup swam to the shore for the second time today, his clothes weighting him down. As he walked out from the water, all he wanted was to avoid being thrown in a lake by a fun-crazed dragon. Of course, he did not expect such luck, but the dragon surprised him again, keeping its distance and not doing any movements that would suggest it wanted to play again.

Hiccup was grateful for that turn of events, and he walked to the exit, sniffing his running nose from time to time and shivering. Now he had to go to his house and participate in another dragon training; that was all the information his brain was able to memorize now.

Then his brain clicked on the thought that he had forgotten about something.

"Basket," he mumbled, turning back. He yelled, fearfully seeing Toothless' head right behind him, making him almost fall over. The dragon was looking at him intently.

"Don't scare me like that!" Hiccup said with reproach; still he was amazed by how that dragon moved. When they played, its steps thudded loudly, but when it wanted, it could move completely silently.

Toothless held the basket by its tail. The Fury dropped it in front of the boy and looked first at the basket, and then at Hiccup, again smacking its lips.

"Yes... more fish...anything else, your Highness?" Hiccup immediately regretted his words as Toothless took a more thoughtful pose, but after a moment turned its eyes back at Hiccup. The boy tried to return the stare, but found himself unable to, and he looked at the ground instead. He was not used to somebody glaring at him like that; for some reason he felt chagrined.

"W-what?" he asked unsurely, admiring his wet boots.

Nothing answered, and he looked up. With a sigh, he saw that the dragon, for some reason, had walked away without any sound.

Hiccup's brain clicked again, and he checked his clothes and then opened the basket.

"Eh, I forgot about th-," He did not finish as he only saw a dragon's tail whipping in a blur and then something hit his head with a force that made him fly off his feet and land on his back with a thump.

"The eel," he said taking the fish off his face. "Thank you!" He yelled ironically.

Toothless quavered shortly and loudly in return. Hiccup did not need a translation for that one.

"Useless reptile...," he added quietly, while getting up.

A blue blob flew above his head exploding harmlessly on the rock behind him.

"See you soon!" He yelled, taking the basket and running away as fast as he could. A low trill sounded after him. He did not need a translation for that, either.

* * *

Hiccup walked around his room, a wet trail leading from his door to the small pile of wet clothes on the ground. He was already wearing his brown trousers, brown woollen socks, and the brown fur pelt lay on the bed. He had washed it yesterday in the nearby stream, using some simple soap. Clothes smelling like dragon's barf were not his favourite fashion style. They were already dry after a whole night in front of the hearth.

He was pulling his dry green tunic over his head, when Gobber's voice sounded outside the window.

"Hiccup, are ya there?"

The boy froze on the spot. That voice sounded very grievous. He thought for a moment as if to pretend that he was not there, but he would meet Gobber at the training, anyway. Resolving that it was unavoidable, he opened the window shutters, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

"Good morning, Gobber! Beautiful day, today!" Hiccup said with the most upbeat tone he could muster.

"Mornin', Hiccup," The blacksmith answered in a dark tone.

_This is bad, why does he sound like this? Is it because I left the party earlier?_

Suddenly the realization hit him, _I forgot to clean the forge! _

"May I come in?" Gobber asked, looking into Hiccup's eyes sternly. The youth swallowed. Gobber never used such a formal tone before entering the house.

"O-of course!" Hiccup answered in a high-pitched voice, forcing a smile. The sturdy man limped to the entrance door. Hiccup startled inside his room and staggered few steps.

"I am dead," he said in a voice washed from any energy.

_He knows about my project, he knows about the drawings... They will kill him! They will kill Toothless! I can't let that happen_! Hiccup thought, knowing that whatever horror would happen to him was nothing compared to what would happen to the dragon.

He straightened up and waited for Gobber to open the door. Soon, the door opened, and Gobber marched in. He shut the door and looked unsurely at the boy. He cleared his throat and gestured at the bed.

"Better if we sit down."

Hiccup did as he was told; he did not want to blurt out his suspicions, even if he felt instinctively that he was right. He had to wait for an opening cue from Gobber and see how the situation developped. If he had been with anyone else, he was sure that he would stutter when trying to talk and feel paralyzed from anxiousness, but luckily for him it was Gobber, so he was able to concentrate better. He promised himself to cover his tracks better next time.

If there was a next time.

"Let me b' blunt, lad, is everything all right?" The blacksmith said, looking undoubtedly worried and concerned. Hiccup felt a sting of guilt that he had to lie to a man who showed him so much kindness, even though he could not offer anything in return.

"Yes, I am fine," Hiccup answered, putting on a very sincere looking smile.

"Good. Lad, ya left earlier yesterday, and I noticed that ya used th' forge."

"Ah, right! I forgot to clean the mess after myself," The boy said, grabbing his head, "Sorry for that. I _will_ clean it! Actually, I don't mind going there right now! The weather is nice and-"

Hiccup was about to get up from the bed but Gobber's arm stump pressed his shoulder, stopping him.

"It's all right, lad, it is not the first time ya have worked at night on another... invention."

Hiccup's mind raced. So, it really was _not_ about him leaving suddenly from the party or leaving a mess in the forge. Now he was sure it was about the tail fin, but he could say that it was for another invention to kill dragons. The problem was that Gobber had a good memory, and he had seen a few drawings of Toothless. He had not seen the drawing with the Fury tail fin, had he? It might have been a mistake to tell Gobber that he had been drawing a Night Fury; if the smith could connect a few facts together... him bragging about downing a Night Fury, next drawing it without a tail fin and finally, actually making one-

"What about it?" Hiccup asked, trying to act surprised and oblivious.

Gobber sighed and turned to the boy, looking serious.

"Listen... Hiccup, I don't know why ya made what ya made, yesterday," Hiccup's body tensed, "I wanted to think that it was another weapon, but after seeing yer drawings...I know it is hard for ya, being the person ya are and living like this, maybe it is really coz yer do not have a woman or maybe," Gobber looked ahead, "maybe yer just lonely."

Hiccup's heart stung. Gobber had seen through him, and it was the first time he even admitted it openly. He must have been really worried about him and the youth felt a strong anger at himself for making the blacksmith worry so much about him.

"I won't ask ya anymore about this; let's just keep it a secret... Well then," Gobber stood up sharply, not looking at Hiccup. The boy knew that he felt chagrined because of showing his feelings, but he could tell that Gobber also felt alleviated. Gobber was about to leave when he spotted the wet clothes on the floor.

"Hiccup, why are these clothes wet?" Gobber asked, but before Hiccup was able to say anything he said, "Ya know what, I don't want to know. See ya at th' Ring, lad."

With this, he walked to the door, looking for a moment at the drawing hanging on the wall next to the desk. Without any word, he opened the door and left. Hiccup released a breath as the door closed and dropped on the bed.

_I really am a terrible person", _He thought, knowing that he had to lie to keep his secret. He often lied to his father and others, just to get attention, but never to Gobber. Never like this, with a straight face and in cold blood, and the smith had just wanted to help him.

He sat with his legs crossed and pondered what to do now. Even though he felt horrible about lying, he knew that from this point forth he would have to do it, sometimes. Toothless's life and safety was a priority here.

He had made a mistake and he could not let that happen again. He was not thinking carefully enough before doing something concerning Toothless. If Gobber knew that he took the fish as well...

Whatever happened in the future, he would have to do every possible thing not to leave any traces leading from him to the dragon. Still, without him, Toothless would not survive long. For the first time in Hiccup's life, he was responsible for something, for somebody, and failing was not an option.

He lifted the wet bundle of clothes and walked downstairs. There were his boots drying in front of the fireplace, a white vapour fuming from the leather. He grabbed a bucket and a large wooden bowl with a small hunk of half-dissolved soap lying there.

Hiccup smirked. His father would have said something like, "Why can't ya even take the soap out of the bowl after usin' it? It's expensive to waste like that!" in a tone as if Hiccup had doomed the whole village to eternal suffering.

Hiccup corrected himself. His father would not have said anything. He would just have taken out the soap, looked at it, and let out a disappointed sigh.

Hiccup took a few buckets of fresh water from the barrel outside and poured them into the bowl. He then went inside and started washing his clothes. There was no woman in the household, and both he and his father had to learn how to do housekeeping chores. His father's cooking was terrible, even after so many years. He was certainly skilled at killing, but the cooking arts were outside his reach. The lamb stew he had made for Hiccup a few days ago was already thrown away, not because it was not edible anymore, but because Hiccup could not think about eating it without feeling so nervous he would throw it up.

After finishing the washing, he hung it up on two chair backrests in front of the fire. He sat on a chair and looked at the fire.

Today he would battle another dragon and as much as he was familiar with the thought that he could die, he was still utterly terrified of the possibility that it would happen. There was no way to be sarcastic about it any longer. But now he was not thinking about himself, but about Toothless. That dragon now dominated his life andmind , and Hiccup did not regret it one bit now.

_If there was any way to make myself invincible_, his mind flashed with that childhood drawing of himself, muscular and powerful with a giant sword above the head. _No, not that, that's impossible... I just need to find a way to make sure I will survive today._

A few plans had hatched in his mind already. He could use one of his inventions, but they were not effective and he most probably would hurt himself and the people nearby.

Using the dragon-skin armour was out of the question. It was not allowed since the Kill Ring training was a coming of age ritual, and no equipment that might have it made easier was allowed. It would not be much of a help, anyway. None of the Vikings even used such armour. It was excellent when dealing with normal fires, when the temperature was around the one you have at home, but with dragon fire, use of those was not advisable.

Theoretically, the dragon skin was fully fire proof. The problem was that even though it stopped the fire, it did not stop the heat that the flame dealt, and that was where the problem jumped in. Even if a small portion of, for example, a Nadder's flame-heat made it through the skin, it would still have a higher temperature than a normal flame. Imagining what would happen to a person wearing such armour was not pleasant.

Fishlegs said that it was something right beneath the fire skin that made the dragon absorb the heat and keep the body temperature at a constant level. He also said that the heat-absorbing tissue died with the dragon, so the skin would lose its properties then.

A third option was to use the eel as a weapon. Toothless was extremely afraid of it, so perhaps the other dragons would react the same way. Hiccup was gambling here, since the only dragon he knew was a Night Fury and its behaviour might not correspond with its fire-breathing cousins. He had brought the same eel Toothless was afraid of back to the house for that very reason. Maybe it was just possible that eel was somewhat special.

The boy did not consider not showing up or resigning from the training. The only way to quit training was to be killed or to be injured in a way that would make him unable to continue; in most cases lose a limb or two.

They were still far away from the beginning of the real selection when the amount of trainees would start dropping down until only one Viking remained to have a glorious fight with the Nightmare.

Hiccup wanted to be the first to drop out. He would become a Viking; the lowest of the lowest, but yet still a Viking. His father would be happy, and he would be picked on a bit less...hopefully. Of all those ideas, the eel was the best sounding one.

He touched a boot's fur wadding. Feeling it was almost dry, he put the boots on since there was no more time to waste. It was nearly time for the training, and getting punished for being late was not his idea of how he would spend the afternoon.

He took the eel and hid it beneath his brown fur vest, hanging it around his shoulders. Making sure it was hidden, he approached the door and pulled the handle. He stopped for a second.

_Oh yeah, I am the first Viking to ever fly_, Hiccup thought, realising that fact, _I should feel awesome and make my victory dance... so why do I feel like it is not so special? Oh well_, he shrugged his shoulders. So much had happened lately, that it became very hard to surprise him with anything, anymore.

* * *

Hiccup was floored. He had expected to go to the Ring, fight a dragon and run for his life; another day on the path to becoming a Viking. Nothing suggested that Astrid would approach him on her free will and ask if he would not mind talking to her after the training, since he had escaped the party yesterday before she was able to talk to him.

Hiccup felt a shiver crawl over his back.

So this was what Astrid had said to him yesterday? He cursed himself inwardly for letting slip away such a chance to talk to the girl he liked. More importantly, his eyes had loomed over the axe that the girl in front of him held, paying more attention to the weapon than to him, not keeping eye contact. Could it be she was assessing if the blade would cut better from the left or the right side?

However, nothing like that had happened. Astrid had acted nice and polite, even asked him if everything was all right. She was not mad, and she did not punish Hiccup severely for leaving. After a short talk and Hiccup's agreement (he repeated it several times in his mind not to forget), she had left, walking by Ruffnut's side.

Yes, Hiccup was floored. His fantasy immediately provided him with several scenarios of what that could be about, each of them ending with Hiccup together with Astrid, two including Snotlout kneeling and begging for forgiveness and three with Snotlout and the rest of village carrying Hiccup on their shoulders through Berk.

As Hiccup went ahead and fantasised about his father himself coming back earlier from the mission just to hug him and tell Hiccup how much he loved him, Gobber entered the Ring.

He was wearing his usual clothes and a hook on his arm stump. Hiccup snapped back to reality and took his place next to Fishlegs, who had his nose in a book.

"Good morning, class!" Gobber boomed benevolently. A few grumbles answered. Gobber either did not listen or did not care. Probably both. He continued his talk as he hobbled to take his place in front of the lined teens.

"Today, kiddies, we're gonna learn 'bout th' most important thing ya will need when being in th' battle. Can anyone tell me what that would be? "Gobber asked, looking at his trainees.

Fishleg's hand immediately shot up and he started jumping in place. Gobber nodded his approval, an unsure look on his face.

"A Dark Darevish testicle!" Fishlegs shouted proudly, with a shining smile.

Snotlout, busy talking to Tuffnut, froze with his mouth opened. Similar expressions were on the other teens' faces, except for Ruffnut, who laughed loudly. Her laughter was the only sound heard in the Ring.

"What?" Gobber was only able to cough out, his eyes wide opened.

"A Dark Dev-," Fishleg's tried to repeat.

"Yes, yes we heard that! But why in Thor's sake would ya need that?" Gobber said quickly, not wanting to hear that again.

"Oh, but it's in this book!" He showed the book he held to Gobber. "It is written in here that if you um... take three portions of squashed Darevish testicle and mix them with a bit of rabbit's bile, t-then stir it seven times when the full moon is up, you will be invincible in the next battle!" Fishlegs said, excitedly.

Ruffnut was already lying on the ground, head over heels in laughter. Snotlout and Tuffnut leaned on each other. Astrid allowed herself a smirk, and Hiccup, knowing that it was nothing new, acted calmly. He did drop his head, pretending to correct his helmet, trying to conceal a smile.

"Yes... I am sure we could all try that," Gobber said, keeping his face impassive, "Sadly, that is not what we will learn about today." Fishlegs' posture dropped a bit in a letdown way, "Anyone else?"

The mirth silenced soon, but nobody dared take a guess after Fishlegs' short performance. Gobber, sensing that he would not get the answer he wanted, even from Astrid -who for some strange reason was quiet today- spoke to the youths.

"The most important thing ya need t' learn t' fight is to be an excellent team player!"

The teens looked at each other, unsure of what their teacher exactly meant.

"A bigger axe is always nice, but no Viking fights alone on the battlefield! Remember that a lone Viking is a dead Viking! The main purpose of this whole training is to shape you all into a fully operatin' battle unit!"

The trainees started whispering among themselves upon hearing such news. The training was supposed to select the one person who would kill the Nightmare in front of the village, and for that you did not need anyone else's help. It was supposed to be a competition, in short.

"When ya finish this training," Gobber said loudly to focus attention on him again, "Ya will be fighting dragons and, as all of ya have seen, we always fight dragons as a group! Think about it for a moment."

Hiccup did not need to adopt a pensive expression to know that it was true. Whenever Vikings battled dragons or any other enemy, they were doing it in either small or large units. Only the best warriors like his father could fight alone.

Talking erupted again; Fishlegs did not ask Hiccup anything, but he had his nose in the book, probably searching for an argument that would implement his invincibility potion into everyday use.

Gobber looked up from beneath his helmet, catching something with his eye.

"Today, youngsters, we will have a guest!"

The whole class turned, following the blacksmith's sight. On the spectators' level the Elder stood, leaning on her staff with both hands, wearing a long brown bear fur coat.

Hiccup and Gobber took off their helmets and bowed deeply; Astrid bowed as well. The twins just nodded their heads or, in Snotlout's case, did nothing. Fishlegs forgot about the _savoir vivre _and waved his hand vigorously, earning a smile from the senior.

"The selection will take place later, after ya learn how to cooperate on the battlefield. After the team training, who will have the privilege of killing his or her first dragon will be decided by th' Elder, not me. And not only yer strength or battle skills will be evaluated, but most importantly yer leadership skill! _That's_ why ya will need to choose a leader! But!" He yelled sharply before anyone was able to utter anything, "Remember that on that person, yer life will depend! Yer leader will need to be a fast thinker, be able to act with cold blood, even in the heat of battle. He must be charismatic enough to make ya follow him or her without any hesitation! Leadership does not matter if yer strong," Gobber started playing with his knotted mustache, "or weak." He hung his gaze on Hiccup for a moment.

_So _that's_ why Gobber was so supportive of me_,_ even knowing how weak I am! He believes that I will be a good leader_, Hiccup thought, feeling paralyzing fear, _I just hope that they will include on my funeral boat a small sign: 'Here lies Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III and the poor souls that happened to be under his charge' with a PS at the bottom ' But, don't worry_,_ he tried his best!'_

His helmet suddenly started to feel heavier than usual. He added to his mental "Never-to-do list", to never become the leader of a hormone-driven battle-thirsty teen Viking unit.

As conversations started again, Gobber walked to the doors of the supply compartment and opened them, but seeing that almost nobody was paying attention to him, he put two fingers to his mouth and whistled rippingly loud.

Six pairs of eyes were on him immediately, and an annoyed roar sounded from the Nadder's cage.

"We need to prepare ourselves now for th' next dragon! That's why... Everybody leave yer weapons by the wall!"

The trainees looked at each other but proceeded to fulfil the request. Refusing Gobber did not seem a very safe option.

"Books, as well!" Gobber threw, looking at Fishlegs, who didn't move from the spot. Hiccup, who did not have any weapon, walked closer to his teacher.

"Me, as a leader? So that was your plan all along?" Hiccup hissed, more from surprise than anger. He barely moved his lips, not wanting the others to hear such conversation. Gobber leaned as if to check if his hook was in the correct position; he wanted to say something, but Hiccup was first to talk.

"I know that I wanted to be here the most of all us... and if I don't have somebody protecting my back, I most likely will not survive the training. Running away is working only sometimes."

Gobber smiled upon seeing such a mature demeanour. Hiccup did not believe in himself, even though he tried to hide it, but dealing with it was simple. The scrawny boy needed just a few words, just a bit of encouragement and care, nothing more.

"If I did not believe ya could be a good leader, I wouldn't even have let ya fight th' first dragon," Gobber said with absolute honestly, his tone ending the conversation.

Hiccup felt a bit more assured, but he still could not picture himself as a leader.

"You will learn 'bout th' most terrifying weapon against a Zippleback today! Behold! The bucket... filled with water!" Gobber said in a dramatic tone. "Take yer bucket and divide yourselves into groups of two. I will check how our main attraction is feelin' today." He closed the door, leaving six buckets in front, and went towards the Zippleback cage.

The groups formed immediately: Snotlout with Tuffnut, Ruffnut with Astrid, and that left Hiccup and Fishlegs to be together. Neither complained, but Hiccup found that it was hard to concentrate with a partner constantly letting out a torrent of words. Especially, if these words were about the many ways to die by a dragon.

"There is one dragon species that is poisonous like the Zippleback, but when it bites you, you feel fine for a few days and then, and then suddenly, you start to melt... from the inside!" Fishlegs said, nasally.

Hiccup answered by sneezing loudly.

"Bless you," The bulky boy spoke hastily, "And there is another one-," Fishlegs still talked, not noticing that Gobber, with a wide smile, had pressed the door-release lever.

The cage door slammed open and the whole Ring was filled with a greenish vapour, swathing everybody in it, lowering the visibility to a few elbows. It did not smell much, but Hiccup felt his eyes start to water and sting lightly.

"The Zippleback, as ya might know, has two heads! One breathes out gas, and the other ignites it. That's where the buckets come in. Use them to damp th' spark-creating head, and the dragon will be virtually defenceless!... Except ya still can be bitten or smashed with its tail." Gobber laughed, and the clanking of his peg against the groundwork sounded, adding to the noises of Snotlout arguing with Tuffnut on who would get the dragon first and of Fishlegs' theatrical whispering.

Hiccup immediately detected one, rather major, hole in this whole training plan.

"Um... Sir?"

"Yes, Hiccup?" Gobber asked in a pleasant tone, through the mist.

"I don't want to interrupt, but does the Zippleback have to light this vapour so it explodes?" Hiccup asked.

Fishlegs stopped talking and listened, as well.

"Yes, that's right!" The blacksmith agreed, continuing to stroll slowly.

"So...um... aren't we in the middle of a very explosive vapour right... now?"

An awkward silence appeared. Fishlegs cringed visibly, looking around.

"That is an excellent question! But the truth is, I have no idea!" Gobber said with a tone that made his smile seem more vicious.

_We are so dead_, Hiccup thought, observing the surroundings more closely.

"That's why you'd better find th' dragon before it manages t' blow ya up! Good luck!"

Before the teens were able to absorb these news, Snotlout shouted, "There!" and a splashing sound followed.

"That's us, you idiots!" Ruffnut yelled.

"Hah! We thought that you were the dragon! Your butts are getting bigger!" went the sneering voice of Tuffnut.

"Nothing wrong with a dragon-big-" Snotlout's polite observation was disturbed with the sound of somebody hitting his face. With a fist.

Tuffnut got whacked. Definitely with a bucket.

After that, things happened fast. Tuffnut got caught by the Zippleback, that, as Fishlegs' commentary stated, used its "stealth times two", seeing an opening and catching the first human not paying attention.

Next, the dragon's tail whooshed over the ground and tumbled the girls, along with Snotlout.

Tuffnut screamed again, freeing himself from the dragon's jaws and sprinting as far away as possible. The others followed, probably to get another bucket of water.

Hiccup and Fishlegs were the only ones left, now. So was the Zippleback. One of its heads emerged from the curling mist and rumbled lowly.

Fishlegs automatically splashed water on it. There was a nervous laugh as the dragon's head started emitting gas, and Fishlegs said, "Oops, wrong head," and then ran away, squealing in a high-pitched voice.

The dragon showed itself fully, smelling a victory with this next, rather humble and bony meal that would be poisoned first for predigestion.

Something grinded inside the Zippleback's mouth, and one of its heads threateningly created a few flickers. It unwound its wings at full length and approached the boy. Before Hiccup was able to do something, the dragon made a quick motion with his body, placing itself sideways, and its tail suddenly appeared from behind its back and smacked the bucket out from his grasp. Hiccup covered his face and shrank back, but he kept his eyes open.

Maybe it was the time he had spent with Toothless, but he saw more fear than aggression in the Zippleback's posture. If it had wanted to kill him, all it needed was one swing of its tail against his head, and they could scrub Hiccup's remains off the wall using several very sharp knives. The dragon stopped its attack abruptly and sniffed the air. It screeched shortly, probably with fright. It had sensed the eel!

Hiccup, seizing the opportunity, started walking forward, trying to look and act tough: "Back!... Back!... Don't make me angry!," he shouted, and the dragon obediently walked backwards, ostensibly terrified of the small man in front of it. Hiccup guided the Zippleback back into its cage, where he said, "Think about what you have done," trying to catch the awesomeness of his act in it.

He closed the cage door, and that was it.

His first defeated dragon.

_Second_, he corrected himself.

Hiccup did not know what he was happier about: to be still alive, or to see the looks on everybody's faces as he turned. They stood in complete silence.

Astrid, who was taking another bucket of water from the barrel, had stopped, completely forgetting what she was doing. Tuffnut, sitting by the wall, forgot about his pain and loud moaning. He now gasped, along with his sister, who knelt next to him, wanting to see the injury on his back. Snotlout dropped his newly refilled bucket to the ground, and Gobber stood there with an expression that Hiccup hoped meant surprise. He had never seen Gobber surprised before.

Nobody moved.

Hiccup clapped his hands, trying to release the tension. He tried to act normally, but he was barely able to contain his growing joy.

"So... are we done here? I still need to... do some stuff."

Gobber shook himself back to reality, "Yes...yes, well then, great... job, Hiccup! We'll meet again tonight in the Mead Hall, kiddies!"

Everybody started to move again and Tuffnut resumed his whining.

"Stop that, you moron!" Ruffnut hissed and, tired with her brother's struggles, whammed him on the ground, examining his back through the cut, blood-stained fabric.

"How is he?" Gobber asked, approaching the twins.

Ruffnut huffed and smacked her brother in the helmet, "He will be all right, the cuts are not so deep. We just need to get him the antidote, and he will be as good as new!"

"Snotlout!" The blacksmith said loudly, "Take Tuffnut to the healer's house, post-haste!"

The mentioned teen looked for a last time at Hiccup with a still unconvinced expression, and then rushed to the injured boy. He pulled Tuffnut's arm around his shoulder, supporting his weight. Then he ran to the exit, Ruffnut following closely.

Gobber marched behind them, but before leaving, he said to the remaining teens, "I need t' go there as well. Can I ask ya t' clean this up?" He looked at the scrawny boy. "Hiccup, again, great job!"

They soon closed the supply compartment doors after placing all the buckets and the barrel inside.

"Astrid?" Hiccup said shyly to the blonde girl taking her axe from where it leaned against the wall, "You- you wanted to talk to me?"

Fishlegs noticed and, with a sheepish smile, sped up to the exit. Hiccup took a glance at the observation level to see if the Elder was still there, but she was gone.

It was just he and Astrid left. Alone.

He felt his heart beat louder, but the prideful smirk did not leave his face, still joyful of the victory.

Astrid looked at the ground, not meeting his gaze.

"That Zippleback was really hard, today! I guess I just have this 'something' that makes dragon tremble in fear, after all!" He said boastfully, thinking that making her see his more Viking-like side would be a good idea. He did not notice the blonde's hand grasping the axe's handle harder, "I-I was sure you would've defeated the dragon, Astrid, but-"

"But I didn't." Astrid's voice sounded, full of bitterness.

"I-I...," Hiccup stuttered, caught off-guard by the girl's tone, and he tried to find the proper words.

"It's all right, I just need to train harder," Astrid said, still looking down.

"I can help you," The boy said, turning back to the ring.

"It's all right, I will do it alone... please," she replied, still not meeting his eyes. None of them spoke for a long moment.

"Oh, it is so late, now!" Hiccup said, feeling that there was no space left for any more words- or for him "I-I need to go now, see you tomorrow!"

He walked away, no longer feeling a sense of accomplishment. He had showed publicly that he was worth something as a Viking. He had often imagined how he would act in this situation. Shout "In your face Snotlout!", make his father smile with pride...

Yet, even though a small ember of pride still smouldered in his heart, he did not find it relevant. Astrid's reaction had sucked all his energy out of him.

How could defeating a dragon compare to his crush acting coldly towards him, and so soon after showing a bit of her warmer side?

Not even for a second did Hiccup think that it might be something wrong with Astrid. He blamed himself. He always did. He took out the eel from beneath his vest as he walked through the meadow by the mountain and, with one look at it, he threw it angrily into the nearby bushes.

_Toothless_, the thought brightly shone in his mind. He should not be pondering about Astrid now; he had much more crucial things to do.

_Sorry Astrid! _he thought automatically. The injured dragon felt more important to him than anything.

* * *

Still, he wanted to complain to somebody.

"I mean, all right, she said 'let's talk after the training!' and I got all excited and giddy! Even with a blood-thirsty dragon, I showed them all my masculine Vikingness!" Hiccup said gesturing widely.

Toothless huffed with contempt at the obvious exaggeration. The dragon lay curled in front of the teen, munching another fish, like a cow, from the small pile situated next to him - a sharp-toothed and very black cow. Its look showed the least possible amount of interest.

"Fine, maybe I could've refined my victory speech a _bit_, but that's not the point! She looked like _she wanted_ to tell me something! Something important, I could feel it!" He looked at Toothless, who still looked at him with a bored expression. "Or I was just wishing for something again, and what I imagined did not correspond with the reality. What a surprise, Hiccup! I really hoped for something...more."

Hiccup wanted to tell somebody how he felt. He never complained to anyone, no... honestly! And it felt refreshing to have somebody who would listen.

"If only you could understand me, Toothless," he mused.

The Fury continued eating, not even looking at the boy.

Bored, Hiccup took out his notebook and started drawing the dragon. He was half-way done when something shadowed him from behind.

"Oh, gods!" He shouted as he spotted Toothless's head hovering behind his shoulder, looking at what he was doing. He guessed that he would never get used to the way the Fury moved.

"This is you," Hiccup said showing the drawing to the dragon. Toothless tilted its head and crooned softly, its eyes jumping from over the sketch.

Hiccup started browsing his notebook, showing the various drawings he had made.

"That is my Village, Berk... a few landscapes... this is my room... my father, Stoick," Toothless sang a high note at that, "my inventions, better skip that part... Ast- I mean-come on, this is boring as well, and here is the Gronkle we had at our training, almost blasted me to the afterlife... and here is the Nadder, completely crazy... and the rest is you."

He showed all his drawings and then closed the notebook. Toothless's head sprang forward, grabbing the notebook with its mouth, and ran away.

"Toothless!" Hiccup yelled, getting up to chase the dragon, but the race was very short. Toothless lay down and dropped the notebook between its paws. When Hiccup started to reach for it the dragon growled. Trying to disobey a Night Fury was not something Hiccup wanted to do, as long as he wanted to keep his limbs intact.

Besides, he was curious as to why Toothless wanted the notebook so badly. He sat with crossed legs and a hand behind his head, waiting to see what would happen. The Fury studied the notebook, looking happy, ears standing up and tail thumping on the ground. Then, moving carefully, it inserted a claw between the pages and flicked the top page up. The notebook opened, and Toothless purred proudly. Its tail lashed violently. Then it started looking at the pictures, purring from time to time and tilting his head.

Hiccup was surprised just a bit, this time. The dragon had just mimicked his behaviour again and was capable of learning. From what Hiccup observed, Toothless liked his drawings.

That gave Hiccup an idea. He stood up, getting the dragon's attention, and took a small stick. He scratched on the ground the same thing that Toothless had drawn when they first met in the Pit.

The dragon looked at the lines and huffed with contempt. Then, using its claw, he drew the proper version next to the boy's.

Hiccup pointed at himself and then at the ground few times.

The dragon narrowed its eyes and doodled in the soil again.

Hiccup gasped, seeing a different symbol. He fetched his notebook and copied it hurriedly. He was sure that it was writing. He pointed, then, at the dragon and at the ground, expecting another one.

Toothless had a thoughtful expression for a moment and then wiped the soil with its tail, destroying the drawings. Then the Fury repeated the gesture, pointing its claw at the notebook, then at the boy and then at the earth.

Hiccup was not sure exactly what the dragon meant, but guessed that it wanted him to write the runic word for what that represented. He opened the notebook, but stopped as Toothless growled. He started at the dragon's reaction and closed it. The Fury repeated the movements with its claw.

Hiccup took the stick from the ground and started to draw the dragon's marking the way he remembered it. Toothless observed with dilated pupils, not moving or emitting any sound. Hiccup finished and looked at the dragon with an expectant expression. Toothless looked from the drawing to the human raising its eyebrow like saying 'Is that it?' Then it snorted, plainly with scornfulness.

"What? You think that it is easy to remember something perfectly after seeing it only once?"

Toothless snorted once more, approached the boulder and pointed at it.

"Rock," Hiccup said, feeling a challenge and sensing where this was going.

The Fury pointed at the stick Hiccup held. The boy wrote the word down. Toothless looked at it for less than an instant and then approached the tree.

"Tree," Hiccup said, and again grasping the dragon's idea, he started pointing at things himself, "Water... Grass... Sky... Stick."

After writing the last down with Toothless looking at it, the boy wiped it with his foot.

"Sky," Hiccup said, folding his arms and looking into dragon's eyes. Toothless smirked in his all-too-superior way and pointed up with his tail- and then wrote down the word with its claw. Without any mistake.

Hiccup stood, stupefied, for a moment and then used another word. Toothless, with a tedious expression, pointed at the item and wrote down its name. Again, without any mistake.

Hiccup felt a spark of irritation and tried again, only to be shown once more that Night Furies have a far superior memory than humans.

After running out of the things to define in the cove, Hiccup started drawing objects in the notebook and showing them to Toothless. As the boy expected, the dragon could memorise everything after being shown it only once and was able to connect the word with the item without any problems. All with that pesky smirk on its muzzle. ...but a very well-earned pesky smirk.

Time ran fast. It was getting a bit after midday, and Hiccup's voice was already sore. He felt the fatigue from staying up all night attacking his body, making his mind hazy. But it was warm today and he did not want to return to the village just yet.

"Sorry, Toothless, I'm going to rest a bit," he decided, closing his notebook and standing up to find a good place to lie down. He put the notebook in his vest's inner pocket and started to take a step when a gentle pressure on his waist stopped him.

He looked down and noticed the dragon's tail.

"Toothless?" he asked unsure, looking back at the dragon. The Fury had serious eyes, the smirk gone from its muzzle. Toothless released the boy, pressed its tail to Hiccup's heart and then gestured to the ground with its head.

"Ah, my name... Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III," he said evenly, writing the name runes in the soil. "Most hated person in the whole village and the most useless one at your se-," he stopped, realizing that he was about to bow deprecatingly to the dragon.

_Why did I just say that? _He thought. Was this really the way he saw himself? This dragon, even though he had known it only for such a short time, was making him feel secure and more open than with anyone else.

He had downed it and made it crippled, and he felt awful about it, but he also wanted to know more about this creature. Was it wrong for him to try to bond with the Fury? To expect understanding, even friendship... or was he just selfishly projecting his needs on Toothless? He finally had managed to do something awesome, meet a creature that represented all his dreams.

Had he hoped for too much, just as Gobber said, because he was so lonely? His mind was in a complete turmoil.

Toothless had its head down, looking at his name intently for some reason; longer than at any previous words.

Barely registering what he was doing, Hiccup's hand touched the dragon's neck. The Fury's body trembled a bit, but it did not move away from the touch. Toothless' skin was warm and smooth. The dragon closed its eyes, letting out a deep breath, but then it jerked its head back, away from the touch.

_That's right... I am the one that added an artificial tail fin to Toothless, forced the fin upon him... what was I thinking? That I am suddenly forgiven? Toothless must hate me and probably will for the rest of its life... it was so childish to expect any other reaction_, He thought, wanting to laugh for some strange reason.

He walked away from the dragon and chucked with all his strength his writing stick with into the lake.

He wanted to kill this wish to befriend the dragon, hoping that when he woke up, the dragon would be gone. He did not deserve its friendship.

_Do dragons even have the concept of friends, anyway? _He thought to himself, lying down under a tree and putting his hand beneath his head, with Toothless observing him discretely from the side.

* * *

The human touch brought too much pleasure to the Fury's liking.

Shade -_no- it's Toothless, now_- heard this "Hiccup's" heartbeat and breathing start to slow down. The boy was trusting Toothless would not attack him. Was he being too naive, or did the Scalgertar decide it was a risk that he was willing to take?

He looked at the human's name again, drawn with a carelessness and sloppiness that the dragon could not believe at first.

One's name was something one should respect and value, and yet Hiccup had shown more care when writing any other word. However, he could not judge the human too hastily: had the Fury not rejected his own true name long ago?

Toothless had suspected such a thing from Scalgertar's past behaviour, but now he was sure.

That human hated himself, and the Fury did not care much about the reasons. However, it was an undeniable fact that he needed the human to fly. He felt that was a good reason alone to let Hiccup stay alive. Even though they flew only once, it was more than enough to convince the dragon. Toothless also was not ignorant and did not need to contemplate things for a long time. The human added something to his tail, they flew. The logical conclusions were evident.

Hiccup wanted to help him. Also, the new thing on his tail was not perfect. He could not fly alone, so there was an argument that he required a human's assistance.

Toothless curled, facing the petite body of the sleeping human. The dragon held his tail in front of his own eyes. The human's 'addition' dangled loosely, so similar to his original tail fin, concealing the human from sight. He flicked his tail and the 'addition' folded, again like the original did, revealing Hiccup's body. He continued this activity with his ear-antenna twitching.

The part including human aid brought up new problems. After he had thrown Hiccup into the water, he had immediately lost control. Toothless could accept Scalgertar's attempts to help him, and he valued them highly.

The human's behaviour greatly reminded him of his Nest before IT came. Whenever you suffered an injury or needed any help, the clan was there to help you. Sometimes you could even expect aid from outside your Kathet. Still, what Hiccup was doing was dictated neither by the typical humans' law, the code that involved dragon's head smashing, nor by blood ties.

It was old and rare, this type of kindness. Toothless did not understand, still, why the human would decide to feel kind towards his people. Or, even, just towards him. Their species were in a state of war. Yet, Hiccup was teaching Toothless his language. The human wanted to communicate with him.

The tail stopped, Hiccup's addition now shut. Toothless walked to the sleeping boy and looked at him from above. The youngling had light yellow skin under his eyes, a sign of not enough sleep. He smelled a bit like eel and, to Toothless' surprise, like a Double Headbite's gas. There was not any raid last night, the Fury would have heard it, so the boy must have come in touch with a Headbite. Toothless was not upset about it; he was just curious.

Hiccup coughed a few times.

There was also a problem with this human's lung. Toothless had noticed it since the first time he had seen the human. The dragon had not considered it as a problem then, but after yesterday, whenever the rattling in Hiccup's lung started to intensify, it made Toothless somewhat worried. He needed a human; hence, this human had to stay alive.

The dragon lightly pressed the side of his head to Hiccup's chest, not wanting to be detected. The sounds of the human's body filled his ears. He could hear them when he was near the human, but listening to them this way was a completely new experience. He concentrated on the one area, closing his eyes.

_The left lung at the height between the fourth and fifth rib... at the side closer to his back... there is something blocking part of his lungs from expanding fully_. A_nd the upper part of his lungs has some liquid in them_.

Toothless opened his eyes and hovered his head over Hiccup's face.

_He certainly does not look dangerous when sleeping_, he thought, putting his snout close to the boy's face, eyes wide and in the form of slits, _Why were you angry earlier, human? Why do you hate yourself, and yet show so much care to me?_ _A man of so many talents and wonders that was able to defeat me and make me able to fly again. Why, when speaking about your father_, _does your voice become hollow like a decomposed skull_, _and you lose all your confidence? I sacrificed my pride to cooperate with you and see what you would do, Scalgertar_, The Fury thought, almost touching Hiccup's nose, feeling the warmth of the human's breath on his skin, but now Toothless's eyes looked dangerous.

_I feel that you are special Scalgertar. Do not fail me_,_ Hiccup Haddock Horrendous III, you are a part of my Athet now, and I won't tolerate such weakness of mind. _

_Show me more of you_,_ human. _

_Show me more of what you really are. _

Hiccup sneezed suddenly, spattering Toothless's nose with slime.(bwah-ha-ha that certainly showed him)

_Well, now, _that's _a good start!_ the Fury thought, constricting an urge to punish the human. Toothless was not some dumb animal and he would not let instincts control him.

He would wait for the right moment and then have his little revenge.

* * *

The rest helped the boy's body but did not change how he felt. He looked at the sky. The clouds were shaded by a pink colour, which meant sunset would be here, soon. He still had a bit of time before the Mead Hall meeting, but his stomach already demanded some nutrition. Hiccup made a mental note to bring some food here next time if he was planning to spend more time with Toothless.

He looked around, searching for a black figure. He did not have to look for long. The Fury was sitting in front of the lake, not moving.

"Toothless?" Hiccup said, coming closer. The dragon did not even twitch. Hiccup stepped in front of Toothless, seeing it had closed its eyes.

"Are you all right?" The youth asked unsurely, raising his hand to touch the dragon's nose.

Toothless's jaws shot out and closed on Hiccup's hand. Seeing it, the boy started screaming as loud as he could.

"My hand! Don't eat my hand! You probably already have, but just don't eat any more of me!"

Hiccup suddenly stopped, noticing that there was no pain at all. His eyebrows furrowed, and he yanked the hand from Toothless's mouth, all covered in saliva. The Fury smiled in its gummy smile, eyes twinkling teasingly.

"Absolutely... hilarious...," Hiccup spoke as emotionlessly as he could.

He cleaned his hand in the lake, using sand to scrub the skin. He glanced back at the dragon that stood still again, eyes closed. He wondered for a moment why the dragon would do that, but his attention was caught by the artificial tail fin.

"Toothless?" Hiccup asked. Maybe it was the sudden movement that made the dragon open its eyes,

"Do you want to fly again?" Hiccup sighed loudly, "...What am I thinking? _Of course_ you want to fly again! I am so -!"

Toothless growled low. Hiccup stopped his self berating. Instead, he pointed at the Fury's tail, "Can I see that, please?"

The boy expected to be misunderstood, or that Toothless would growl at him -or even attack. The dragon simply raised its tail and placed it in Hiccup's hands without a moment of hesitation.

The boy swallowed; it was the first time he could see the damage he had done so closely. Toothless was not making it any easier by observing what he was doing with slit pupils.

He did not want to show to the dragon how horribly nervous he now felt. With a pretended cold professionalism, he unfolded the contraption and the dragon's actual tail fin, comparing them to each other. His design was almost flawless with measurements. Only the third metal bar from the bottom had to be shortened by half, and he thought of making a double seam instead of singular.

He unbuckled the belt with trembling hands. He took a glimpse at Toothless's muzzle. There was no sign of anxiety or stress. How could the dragon be so composed? His hands were sweating and he wanted to run away and scream. He dared look at the place where the left tail fin originally was. The scar was visible, almost as dark as the surrounding skin, but it was a bit swollen and its edges were irregular.

"Does it hurt?" Hiccup asked quietly, now looking away. He could not bear watching it, "Of course it hurts, Hiccup! You are such an id-"

Toothless's tail slapped his head lightly, stopping the boy, who was starting to raise his almost breaking voice.

Hiccup looked up, seeing the dragon's austere stare. The tail's fin slid from the boy's head.

"Thanks," The teen said quietly, holding the place he got hit, trying to remember the feeling of it. The radiating confidence the dragon emanated was infectious, and there was a strongly implied expectation in Toothless' stare.

Without a further word, the boy grabbed the basket and tossed it across his back, hearing the dragon trot loudly away from him. Taking a glance back, he saw the Fury walking to the nearest tree and raising a back leg.

"What are you-?" Hiccup decided that this was one scene he would not draw. A peeing dragon.

"Well, at least I know you are a 'he'," The teen said.

Toothless followed Hiccup's stare and, upon seeing what the human was watching, he looked at the boy with raised eyebrow like saying, "Do you enjoy what you see, Mister?"

Hiccup smirked and walked to the exit.

"Oh, you want to eat my head, now," he suddenly said in a bored voice. Toothless was behind him, widely opened jaws above his head, about to close shut on it.

The dragon closed his mouth and huffed in a letdown way

"See you later!" Hiccup said to Toothless, and he could have sworn that the dragon had smirked back.

* * *

Silly story time!

Hiccup lay in his bed, upstairs in the same inn where he had drunk together with Toothless. The latter was still missing, even though it was now already dawn. The small rays of light were starting to come in through the window pane, and birds had started their chirping.

Hiccup was, again, reading one of the books he had bought during the FANFICTION SELL-OUT from a suspiciously familiar-looking merchant. The man had been constantly talking to himself and smoking a pipe. After the transaction he ran away, and Hiccup wondered why. The books weren't so bad after all. The current one dealt with the reviewing of fanfictions. Most intriguing was how positive they were, considering how bad some of the stories those reviews addressed really were. No matter how badly written, how many terrible grammar or spelling mistakes or how blood-chilling the plot was, most of the reviews were positive.

Even with the small amount of light coming to the room, Hiccup still needed the lamp to read.

_Simply remarkable phenomenon_, Hiccup thought for the hundredth time that morning.

The mechanism for such an action was a complete mystery to the boy. The reviews did not represent anything constructive, plainly they were supporting, like with Anonymously Anonymous reviewer "Moar pwease !11 (one)" or Fjord Mustang's " Please update soon, I WUVfluff! W-U-V!".

From Hiccup's point of view, the author needed a lot of improvement. Even he could see it clearly, so why did these people not share his opinion? Was there some sort of hidden code phrase in these reviews that meant: "please improve your grammar"? Or, "do not make your main dragon character change gender so often it makes your readers' eyes watery from the confusion"?

Hiccup scratched his bristled cheek, thinking. The silence was disturbed by heavy thuds and muffled moans heard through the door.

"It's open!" Hiccup shouted, not changing his position.

A dark mass entered, whimpering loudly.

"Never... again...," Toothless groaned, barely shuffling.

"Oh, look who's back? Had fun? I am _not_ getting you vaccinated this time," The youth said jeeringly from under his covers.

"Take off the saddle... please...," Toothless said pleadingly. Hiccup, with a sigh, reached down to the floor and grabbed his prosthetic limb. After fastening it, he stood up reluctantly and approached the obviously suffering dragon as slowly as he could. He took off the saddle to see it had claw and bite marks on it. There were also quite a few claw marks on Toothless's hide, not deep enough to bleed, but still present.

Hiccup looked slowly from the saddle to a very sheepishly smiling Toothless.

"I won't say 'I told you so' or 'You got what you deserve', noooo, but repairing the saddle is coming from your part of the salary!" The scrawny boy said, pointing a finger at the dragon, "I also do not even want to know what in the gods' name you've been doing there, but it looks... rough."

They were both working now as delivery boys, and they shared their money evenly. The youth had gotten his dragon flying licence a month prior and already had two penalty points on it. For speeding.

"Don't even tell me about it," Toothless breathed out, walking to Hiccup's bed.

"Woah, woah, where do you think you are going?" The teen asked, blocking the Fury's path.

"To your bed... please, my hips need to rest on something soft for tonight," The dragon said, making his puppy eyes.

"No! You brought this to yourself, so you can deal with the consequences now," Hiccup said, getting into bed. He took off the limb and pulled the covers over himself.

"Please Hiccup, otherwise I won't be able to fly tomorrow... and I washed in a lake before coming here!" The Fury said excitedly, putting his trump card on the table, "Why are you still reading these things?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"Because they are enriching my life and _they_ are _loyal, _not like some ungrateful individuals," Hiccup huffed.

Toothless rolled his eyes.

"I _am_ sorry, what else do you want me to say?" The dragon placed his head on the bed and looked at the boy.

Hiccup sighed, "Fine, but only because I am so merciful and awesomely awesome."

"Of course," Toothless agreed, getting into the bed that squealed beneath his weight. It was a very large bed for one person, but for a person _and_ a dragon, it was barely enough. Hiccup read a bit more and then looked at the big head of his friend, lying next to him. The boy placed the book on the bedside table and made himself comfortable.

"Can you put out the lantern?" Hiccup asked, closing his eyes.

Toothless grumbled, twisting his head, looking at the mentioned source of light. A small blob of fire escaped the dragon's muzzle and hit the lantern, shattering it completely. They both lay in silence.

"That's coming from your pay as well...," Hiccup said in a dreamy voice.

"I know," Toothless said, laying his head closer to the boy's. There was silence again for a longer moment, "Hiccup, are you sleeping?"

"Try to guess," the teen mumbled.

"My hips hurt... can you massage them tomorrow?" the dragon asked carefully.

"You want me to massage your butt?" Hiccup said, opening one eye.

"My hip area...," Toothless tried to negotiate.

"Yes, technically it is called the butt, my sexually overactive friend. And forget it."

"Virgin," the Fury breathed out quietly.

"What?" Hiccup said sharply, "Want to sleep on the floor for tonight, you perverted gecko?" He said flicking Toothless' nose. The dragon reacted with a snort and head shake.

The silence continued only broken by the quiet sounds of chirping birds.

"Was it worth it?" Hiccup asked, falling asleep.

"No more, please, Sparkletta," Toothless answered in an equally drowsy tone, calling the well known Unicorn Night Fury.

"Goodnight, Toothless," Hiccup said, putting a hand on the dragon's neck.

"...And I won't touch your butt."

* * *

AN: Nothing to say. As usual, please leave a review. If somebody puts any other 'Moar pwease' comment to tease me, the cute hamster will die. Ah, it always works.


	16. Hidden Motives

AN: After this chapter, I will need some time off to gather more material. It should take 2-3 weeks, or less, depends on my motivation, heh.

* * *

People were whispering behind Hiccup's back as he walked through the village.

He barely had walked out from his house after placing the basket there, and people were looking at him and talking. It was much different from the close-the-window-shutters-and-pretend-he-does-not-exist attitude. They were actually talking with interest and surprise. Hiccup did not know how to feel about such behaviour, so he tried acting like he normally did. He pretended he did not hear anything.

He had defeated a dragon, after all. The biggest loser in the village. Hiccup did not think, even for a moment, that he could walk away without getting into the public eye.

The Mead Hall doors squeaked as somebody opened them forcefully, and a few laughing, bulky figures jumped out, right in front of Hiccup's nose.

The men, seeing Hiccup, froze, looking at the scrawny teen. One of them discerned Hiccup. It was Rotfang, one of the sons of the village miller, and a few years older than Hiccup. The boy had the priviledge tobe tormented and physically beaten up only by Snotlout, since nobody else dared touch the Chieftain's son. However, that did not stop the kids from saying exactly what they thought about him. Rotfang used to be one of those kids who had an absolutely astonishing ability to talk casually while throwing rocks and every other item he had within reach. The logic was simple. It was the rocks, not he, hitting Hiccup, so he was not guilty of anything. It was the rock's fault, not his. Hiccup could not argue with this logic, as he was busy running away.

"I've heard you have beaten a dragon," Rotfang said, to Hiccup's disappointment.

"Yeah," the small teen chuckled nervously, "They just hide in fear when they see me!"

The group nodded approvingly, seeing such a Viking-like attitude.

"Well... see you, kid," Rotfang said, smiling, and left Hiccup, talking animatedly with his friends.

That was unexpected, but Hiccup felt a small sense of accomplishment. He entered the Hall. Few people were left, as it was getting late, but all of them turned their heads to him and eyed him with scrutiny. They boy tried to walk with as with much dignity as he could as he approached the table occupied already by his training group. Only Snotlout was missing.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut and Astrid sat close to each other, talking. Hiccup observed the twin brother to see if anything seemed wrong with him, feeling a bit concerned about the training incident, but Tuffnut seemed fine. He was now telling a tale in a boastful voice about how he had almost died when the healer was medicating his wounds. Ruffnut was listening with a knowing smile.

"Hi, guys," Hiccup said to Gobber and Fishlegs, sitting at the nearby table where they were reading a book together and exchanging comments. They both greeted him and went back to the book.

Hiccup took some lamb stew from the pot in the middle of the table and started eating.

"Whata ya weadin?" he said with his mouth full.

Gobber looked abashed. "We? Nothin'! Just a few-"

"Potions against balding!" Fishlegs said happily.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. Gobber was afraid of getting bald, and the boy had no idea why. Gobber had an important position, money, respect, and he could have most of the single women on the island if he wanted. Hiccup had only heard a rumour that Gobber's apparentlasting celibacy was due to one woman who had left him when he was younger.

"Come on, Gobber, your hair is fine." Hiccup said flatly.

"I saw a small spot without hair this mornin', see?" The blacksmith took off his helmet and showed him the terrifying place, allegedly without any hair, on the side of his head. Hiccup could not see anything.

"You are not balding, Gobber! Stop getting paranoid!" Hiccup said, slurping the stew from the wooden spoon.

"That's what they want ya t' think, but one night they come an' make you lose all yer hair!" Gobber said dramatically.

"Who are 'they'?" Fishlegs asked, interested, before Hiccup had a chance to shout, "Don't!"

"Oooh, ya have never heard of the Trolls of Baldness?" their instructor said darkly.

Hiccup had a strong urge to face palm himself. He had heard this story too many times already. Just like the one about undies-ripping Gnomes.

He used this opportunity to get some mead from the large, open barrel standing next to the bar counter. He scooped the whole mug and stood there for a moment, taking a few gulps.

He also looked at Astrid. He saw her eyes looking into his. A moment later, Astrid averted her gaze rapidly to Ruffnut sitting next to her. The sense of confusion about why she was acting like that must be some divine punishment for Hiccup, in his opinion.

He walked to his table to see that Snotlout had arrived and sat, as usual, near Tuffnut. He looked sweaty as if he had been running for a long time and did not look so well, overall. The biggest surprise for Hiccup was that he looked sad and pensive. Snotlout _never _looked sad or pensive, and that made Hiccup worried, mostly for himself.

"Good evenin' everybody and welcome to our next short meeting!" Gobber said and started pacing slowly around the table where the trainees were seated. "But before we start... Hiccup, come here, lad!" He shouted towards the coming boy.

Hiccup expected a formal presentation after he had defeated a dragon. Still, he felt hot around his neck, and his mug shook dangerously, almost spilling the drink.

Without further ado, Gobber scooped Hiccup into a tight embrace with his good hand. "Today, there is a very special reason to celebrate! Hiccup defeated his first dragon!" The blacksmith shouted happily, raising the mug attached to his arm-stump.

Only Fishlegs reacted and started clapping loudly without any care that he was the only one doing it. Hiccup smiled sheepishly, completely lost.

"Hiccup, I am sure ya want t' say a few words, now," Gobber said, and left the boy alone, gently pushing Hiccup in front of him.

"Y-yes a speech..., this is what triumphant Vikings do, right? Give speeches...great..." Hiccup said nervously, and swallowed. Every pair of eyes in the Mead Hall was looking at him now, and he was painfully aware of that.

Fishlegs beamed, and Gobber waited patiently. Ruffnut's head hung against her hand, and her brother glared at Hiccup with contempt, hands crossed across his chest. Snotlout sat with his back to him and did not even turn to look at him, but just ate, glaring at his plate.

Hiccup did not dare look at Astrid. Would she look at him with disdain, he knew that he would not be able to utter even one syllable.

"Well... we all gathered here...," Hiccup begun.

"To part with this poor soul?" Tuffnut said with a simper.

A few people laughed surreptitiously. None of them was sitting at the trainees' table.

"T-that's a very good point... not to start your speeches like an introduction to the funeral... like we don't have enough around here," Hiccup answered back.

No one laughed.

Hiccup, feeling that he was losing it, pondered heavily what do say next. People started talking again and their words started clouding the boy's mind. The rumpus was getting louder and Hiccup thought about saying something sarcastic to end this.

"I think we should listen to Hiccup."

Everybody fell silent and looked at the person who had said that. If Hiccup had not seen Astrid's lips moving he would not have believed what he just had heard.

"He may not look like it, but sometimes... he can say meaningful things," Astrid said confidently, looking at Hiccup with her blue, gleaming eyes.

The boy felt himself blush.

"I agree," Ruffnut burst out, smiling and looking on with interest. Tuffnut looked at her with an expression that questioned her sanity.

"M-me too!" Fishlegs yelled in his gawky manner.

Gobber took a sip, "Well then, lad. I don't need t' add anythin' here. Don't disappoint yer new fans," he saluted with his mug.

Hiccup took a breath, filled with new confidence. Some people wanted to hear him out without his forcing their interest first. He had always wanted it: attention because he had done something extraordinary, and people's approval.

"I know it must have been hard for some... well..._all_ of you, tolerating my behaviour over the past... over such a long time," Hiccup looked around the Hall, "I know that I wasn't the best example of what a Viking warrior should be and I still am not.

"But I want to make one thing clear here. I apologise for all the pain and inconvenience I might have caused you. I am really sorry for that."

He really expected some reaction. He had poured out his soul, and the only person that reacted to these words was Gobber. He grinned widely and looked with what might have been pride. So much for the Viking sensitivity.

"Boilpus!" Hicup shouted to the Viking sitting to the right, one of the tower guards attired in chainmail with a silvery sword handle gleaming on his back.

"I'm sorry for that armour collection a few years ago! Most of it got melted, but I still managed to make an almost complete armour from the scraps!"

Boilpus the Viking was not looking amused.

"Scabies!" Hiccup said loudly to the woman who froze spoon in hand, an onion strip dangling from it close to her opened mouth.

"I know you liked Fluffy. I know it was my fault that the dragon followed me, but in a way she saved my life as a distraction for the dragon!"

Scabies started to have watered eyes and her lips started to tremble at the mention of her deceased sheep.

"How about you, Dandruff!"

"We get th' point!" Somebody shouted from afar in an annoyed voice.

"Of course, you do," Hiccup said, and he put his mug on the table, "Today's fight and defeating a dragon is something that makes me happy, of course," He lied, hoping that people would not notice it, "However, it is just a small step for me and I know I still have much to learn. I promise you that I will work hard and show you that I can be a better Viking! And... that's all I have to say," He finished limply.

A few singular and quiet claps sounded, and that was it for the first big speech of Hiccup.

Gobber stood up, "Excellent! Now, let's go back to our battle-related matters, shall we?"

The teen training group started discussing today's lesson and the mistakes they had made.

"Snotlout, what did ya do wrong, today?" Gobber said, taking a gulp of mead.

Snotlout kept looking at his now empty plate, "I got distracted talking to Tuff. I was not aware of my surroundings, and I used my water too fast. I wasn't treating that fight seriously enough."

Gobber started to choke a few times. Everybody looked at Snotlout with eyes wide open.

This was a bigger surprise than Hiccup winning the fight with a dragon.

The blacksmith coughed up his metal tooth; he had accidently almost swallowed it from shock.

"That is... correct Snotlout, try better...next time," Gobber said diffidently, and he mounted his tooth back in its place.

The rest of the meeting went without any other events, and ended late that night.

Hiccup escaped as fast as he could, trying to provoke one last eye contact with Astrid before he left, but she was busy lively discussing something with Gobber, showing him one of her moves with her axe.

Hiccup was not the first that had left, though. Snotlout had opened the Hall doors and vanished from sight even before Tuffnut was able to ask what was wrong. Hiccup was not worried; he just hoped it did not involve him.

The cold night air brushed off his all worried demeanour, focusing him on the task at hand. While he walked to the forge, Hiccup thought hard about how to take the next step in enabling Toothless to fly again. He had gotten an idea when he had looked at the scar the tail-fin amputation had left.

Hiccup first walked to the house and took the tail-fin, then walked to the smithy, thinking.

_Toothless cannot control his flying anymore_, _ergo he is not able to fly anymore._

_True._

_Toothless was able to fly with the artificial tail-fin I made._

_True._

_Toothless is not able to control the artificial tail-fin on his own._

_True. _

_Ergo, if Toothless is not able to do it on his own_, _he needs somebody-or something to do it for him._

_True. _

Hiccup took another breath of the cool air and breathed out a white mist.

_He was going to ride a dragon!_

There was no other logical step he could take. Perhaps, in the future, he would invent something that would make Toothless fly on his own but for now, the Fury needed him to fly.

If it could actually ever work -or if he wasn't eaten by the dragon for such disrespect as even _thinking_ of riding him.

Toothless seemed to be a prideful creature and could react in quite a violent way, and Hiccup could lose all the trust he had managed to acquire from the dragon so far.

Hiccup pondered one last time whether he was not doing this out of a selfish human desire to put his will over a creature he deemed lower.

His hand froze on the forge door handle.

He started to think in ways he would never have considered. It was better for him, since he needed all the new perspectives he could get to understand that dragon fully.

The first thing that he decided he was going to need was a saddle, something that would help him stay attached to the creature.

He was not an expert in making these. It was a long time since there had been a horse in Berk.

The Viking's ideal steed -Icelandic horses- were small, but graceful and strong. Unfortunately, they were quite expensive, and the dragons were always going after them first.

Berkians had stopped importing horses, but the saddles remained.

Hiccup was confident that, with a bit of incentive, he could modify one of these to fit a Night Fury.

First, he started with the tail-fin, correcting one of the rods and adding an extra seam. Gobber should not be here for a bit longer, but Hiccup did not want to risk it. He opened the storage room and started to scrabble around, searching for one of the Icelandic saddles. Finally, he found several, buried beneath leather pieces, all covered in dust.

He decided on two, both made from reindeer leather. They both were black almost not tainted with the signs of the passing time. There were a few spots with scratches and leather cracking, but overall they were in decent shape. One of the saddles was missing a stirrup, and Hiccup decided that he would use this one as spare material provider.

He took a big sack hanging from the wall and packed the saddles, one line parchment of black dyed reindeer leather and as many tools as he could. The work on the riding equipment he could do at his own house. In this way, he would not draw unnecessary attention. Hiccup had already taken tools to his house several times, to work there; hence, Gobber,hopefully, would not ask too many questions about the missing equipment.

Making sure to cover as much as possible any evidence of his presence in the forge, he tied the sack shut using rope and threw it over his back.

On his way home, he only met a walking guard holding a torch who greeted him with a nod.

Hiccup felt a bit like a thief or a spy on a dangerous mission. He liked to add drama to everyday activities, as long as you count making a saddle for a Night Fury an everyday event.

At his house, he started a fire and lit several oil lamps to give himself more light. He ran to the attic and started searching for the book about making saddles. He was sure that he had put it here, somewhere. As a kid he had too much free time, and he relished reading almost anything he could get his hands on.

He found it buried in a small pile of books he had forgotten he even had. One was about Greek philosophy. Another one was something called The Bible. He did not understand that book at all, but he liked to borrow some of the phrases from it for his grand speeches like "gnashing of teeth".

Fishlegs would have said that it was adding 'plus ten' to the epicness of his speeches.

The text of the book he needed for saddle alterations was not in Norse, but he really only needed the book's diagrams. Years of practice had taught him how to read technical drawings, and they were not so different in many cultures. "Um...fig.24," he muttered, sliding his fingers over the page. He needed to remind himself how to connect the leather parts correctly so the seam would be strong and not break.

For the tail-fin, he used the same seaming he used for the shields.

The basic design of the saddle was very similar to the theory he read about managing Icelandic horses. Unlike most European horse philosophies, you did not rely on the standard, harsh curb bit to direct Icelandic horses; rather you used a gentler snaffle bit. Actually, the most important signals to the horse came from the saddle, using your legs and feet.

This interesting, unusual idea required a deeper partnership and trust between rider and horse, and Hiccup liked it. He would bet anything that Toothless would not let Hiccup dominate him by using any sort of bit in the dragon's mouth. So that meant no bridle and no reins- the focus needed to be on the saddle and a good partnership with Toothless.

Icelandic horse saddles were longer and you could grab the front of it to help you keep stable. To keep the saddle in place, Hiccup wanted to use leather straps encircling each front leg and one large strap across the chest.

The belts around each front leg would create a ring a bit bigger than the diameter of the leg so the leather was not grating the skin on the inguen (the dragon's relative "armpit" area). A thick leather strap equipped with a buckle on one belt and many holes for flexible adjustment would connect the rings across the dragon's chest. A simple plan, but simplicity was key for the boy.

Hiccup took out his knives and a pair of well-whetted scissors and started his work. As a blacksmith, he had to make weapons considering a person's arm length and body build and also how the weapon would be used. He was able to gauge measurements with great accuracy, just by looking at something. It was no different with Toothless. All he needed for the saddle were his feet (for measuring steps) and a lot of time.

The job was moving smoothly. He remembered the sewing techniques he had taught himself and what Gobber had shown him.

After finishing with the seaming, he rubbed some wool fat into the leather to soften the material.

He lifted up the saddle and looked at it. For somebody who did not have a lot of experience with saddle making, he was pleased with his work. Hiccup also felt extremely excited at the possibility of flying on the dragon again. The previous short flight had been something magical and enthralling. He was not worrying much about the possibility of Toothless eating him in the process of saddling him, but he also did not expect his cooperation either.

He yawned widely.

He would think about it when the time came.

Hiccup cleaned the room and hid the remaining leather and tools back in the sack. He hung it on the wall next to the furs and hanging weapons.

After putting out the oil lamps, he took a small candle and shuffled upstairs. His eyes almost closed, he clumsily stowed the saddle beneath his bed. He took off his clothes, his silhouette hidden in the darkness. He opened the drawer and took out a wooden jar of aloe oil and, like almost every night, he smoothed it over his burns, sighing in relief.

After putting on his woollen pyjamas and collapsing on the bed, he looked at the window shutter. It was still night, and there was another training scheduled on the Hill after lunch. He would love to just sleep off the previous days and sleep until the practice time.

However, no matter how tired he was, the thoughts about Toothless never left him. Feeling drowsiness overtaking him, he let his mind go. Next to Toothless, he saw Astrid's eyes and her smile, her golden hair and lips glimmering and inviting. He also saw for a moment Snotlout's slouched posture, eyes distant and his voice so full of honesty that it was painful to listen.

The soothing smell of aloe started filling the room, evaporating from Hiccup's warm body. Automatically Hiccup's body took a foetus position and grabbed the pillow. He hugged it tightly, finding a bit of comfort in this small gesture, just so he could imagine that somebody was sleeping next to him and he was not alone in this silent house.

He was good at deceiving himself; neither did he fail this time.

* * *

The torch shone brightly. Its yellow-orange tongue danced, an aureole of soot ornamenting the stone wall beneath it. The flame bent suddenly from a gust of wind, and a loud huff sounded.

Inside the room were six torches, three on the each side. Sand covered the floor and, at the front, there was a large log encircled with heavy ropes. On the left side, small steps ascended to the door. In the middle of that wall, hung a big circular iron shield. Multiple dents graced its surface, as if something had hit it more times than one could count.

Light reflected in the sweat covering the muscular back of a young man, making every groove and curve of his muscles more visible in the subdued, orange light. His black hair fell at ear height and dripped from sweat. He held his leg high in the air above the ground. His bare foot hovered on the torch level, sand completely covering the foot sole. On his ankle hung a leather sack filled with sand as a weight; it moved as the leg trembled from exhaustion.

He wore lose woollen black long trousers used for training, and he had a vast red leather belt tied in a knot at the side, tightly covering most of his abdomen. One hand stretched above a lifted knee, and the other held a one and a half-hand long reddish sword that gleamed with a miniature Monstrous Nightmare twisting on the upper part of the handle and the sword guard.

Snotlout, with a lightning move, jumped from one leg and performed a high kick with a twist in the air, landed and lowered his position so his knees almost touched the sand. His sword cut through the air in front of him in a full swing and then suddenly changed direction, moving closer to his body and performing a double parry. Then he leaned forward in a stab movement with one hand holding the handle and the other hand at the back of it for more force.

He stopped and thought for a moment.

Gobber had said something about his stabbing technique. What was it? He could not remember. He tended to quickly forget things that people told him or tried to teach him.

The sword started twisting and slashing the motionless air again.

His father had always told him that he was stupid.

Strong, but stupid.

The sword glistened in the light as it sounded with its deadly melody.

He knew that, even without his father reminding him about it almost every day. He was always instructed by his father what to do, steered through his life and he had now started to hate it for some time, as he grew up.

Nevertheless, he was also aware that he needed it. Because he _was_ stupid. His whole life revolved around it. What he was told to do, he did. After all, it was best for him, and he was too stupid to take decisions on his own.

The confidence in his strength was diminishing however, now. Hiccup was winning. He had stood up for himself for the first time, and their fight had ended in a draw. And now Hiccup had defeated that dragon without even touching it.

Whenever he thought about that boy, Snotlout would get angry and remember a scene when Hiccup was learning with Gobber in the Mead Hall over various books, a few Vikings around them. Even though Hiccup was weak and only created trouble, people were highly impressed by his intelligence and ability to understand almost everything. But they never were like that with Snotlout.

The blade slashed vertically, creating an orange trail in the space.

He had had many teachers in his life, and they all had given up on him. He could not concentrate on anything and always had too much energy. The only thing he was good at was fighting, and so he fought. A day rarely passed without him getting into a fight with another boy, just because he called him an idiot. He also barely needed a reason.

His mother never told him anything about it. Snotlout equated her with kitchen, the smell of food cooking and an aroma of soap as she washed clothes. She was always calm and looking like she was waiting. Always by the window, always waiting for her husband to be back. Snotlout's parents rarely exchanged any word, yet the gesture was there.

He felt bad in his house, and he wanted to go out and fight. Hiccup was a perfect target. He was weak, and his dad had told him that Hiccup did not deserve to be the next Chieftain.

Snotlout had one, even bigger, reason to hate the scrawny boy.

Hiccup was smart and he was not. This made him mad. He was **_not_** lower than that pathetic excuse of a Viking. He had to prove his worth. So he did it in the only way he knew; with his fists.

There was something more to it, but he did not comprehend what.

He despised one more person beside Hiccup.

Breathing heavily after another finished sequence, he approached the shield that he once enjoyed using to adore his muscles and watch them flex, but not this time.

He saw his grey eyes, his stupid eyes, and his stupid face. His father told him that so many times. Intelligence is something you are born with, strength is something you acquire.

He would always be an idiot. Always lower, never really the best.

And Hiccup was getting stronger while he would stay in one place forever.

He looked at his face, distorted in the uneven iron surface. His right hand clenched the sword handle harder.

Everything about him was stupid. If he could, he would prefer to be like Hiccup.

Weak, but smart.

The shield vibrated with a short, ringing sound as his sword-holding fist connected with it at full force, adding another indentation to its already maimed surface. He bored into his reflected eyes, shining above his fist.

"I fucking hate you," he said in a clear stable voice.

* * *

"What?" the churlish grump sounded as Hiccup opened the door that swung with a loud squeak.

The boy entered the house used as a workplace for his intended contact.

"Oh, it's ya," Crabslap stated, in a disappointed tone.

His black hair had a few strands of grey in it, and one of his legs knocked as he walked. The Warehouse Master had lost part of his right foot, from the ankle down. He had also gained weight. His enormous body reposed on a small stool behind a giant counter with an equally tremendous-looking book on it. It was black in colour and was called by the villager's _The Black Mamba_, after an animal travellers described as very venomous and dangerous.

This is how most Vikings also described visits to the Warehouse Master's house. Everybody had to contribute to Berk's food supplies, and each contribution was scrupulously noted in the black book. That process also seemed to require one whining Crabslap.

A real Viking would dream of nothing greater than stick the _Black Mamba _book into that Viking boor's rump.

"Good morning, Sir," Hiccup greeted politely.

"Aye, aye," Crabslap waved his hand negligently, "What do ya want?"

Hiccup harrumphed, looking to see if there was anyone else in the dimmed room. Reassured that they were alone, he stated his business, "I would like some fish...please"

The broad -in every dimension- man snorted condescendingly. "So why did you come here, then? Go t' th' docks an' ask for some. I thought that ya knew as much. ...And people say that _ya_ have defeated a dragon?"

"Yes..._Sir_," Hiccup hissed that last part through clenched teeth.

The main reason he had come here was to get fish from the Warehouse, where the risk of being spotted was low, and to persuade Crabslap not to record the missing fish in _The Black Mamb_a.

Trying to steal from fisherman or from the storage warehouse involved too much risk, since Hiccup did not possess many burglary-related skills. His inborn "agility" would probably get him killed before he even spotted his target.

"I would prefer to get the fish from the Warehouse, please. Me and my _friends,_ the ones I train with, would like to get some. It's all because of Gobber, of course," Hiccup said, trying to look disappointed.

"Gobber? What with him?" Crabslap said, leaning forward on his desk, his previously uninterested expression brightening at the mention of Gobber. It was well known in the village that they did not like each other.

Hiccup wanted to use that fact to this advantage.

"You know, we would like to eat like true Vikings, and that means a lot of protein so we gain muscles and strength to kill these pesky dragons! However, Gobber thinks otherwise! He demands us to eat almost nothing, as some sort of training purification, and we are only getting weaker thanks to that."

"I think he is quite unfair to us," Hiccup said, trying to sound reasonable.

"Unfair? That's not even _close_ to what I would say 'bout that half-ogre! I always knew there was something wrong with him! Hah! Don't worry, I won't let ya kids starve to death!"

Crabslap opened his book and took out an ink-well, a goose feather stuck in it.

"How much do ya need?" he asked, taking the feather from the ink jar.

"Um... we would not want this to be noted down, you know, just in case Gobber sniffs around. He said so himself, that he... er... would not hesitate to check the Warehouse personally if we got any food on the sly," Hiccup lied smoothly.

The feather broke in Crabslap's palm.

"He said..._what? **Nobody**_ will enter the storage without _my_ permission!" Crabslap dinned and continued his rant, smiting the counter, and making the ink spill over the oak wood.

He panted, and unhealthy-looking red spots showed on his cheeks.

Hiccup gulped, hoping that he had not overdone things.

"I **_will_** get you those damn fish, and not a soul will know about it!" The Warehouse Master decided and sprang up from his seat, making Hiccup jump as well.

He took a big iron key from one of the desk's drawers.

Crabslap vigorously limped out of the room, cursing at his hated enemy.

Hiccup silently followed. The red-haired boy did not know how this transparent animosity had been born, but it must have been something large, judging from Crabslap's explosive reaction.

Hiccup walked over the small, circular holes the obese Viking's peg-leg made in the earth.

The two headed to the Warehouse building that stood almost next to Crapslap's house.

It was a massive construction, thirty elbows high and almost one hundred elbows long. Its walls were made from planed oak trunks, and bored into the ground one standing next to the other. The roof was slightly steep, covered in bushes and leaves to make it as hard to see as it grew close by the walls for the same reason that the building was painted in green and brown.

Even with all these visual improvements one thing betrayed that the Warehouse was there: the smell. It was getting stronger as they neared.

Hiccup's mind signalled that something was wrong with the whole concept of concealing the building. Even if it was not apparently visible, there was no way dragons would not orient on such a strong scent and steal the food out from the building.

He wondered why the storage had never been attacked before.

Crabslab wheezed heavily as they stood before the entrance doors. There were already several baskets of the day's freshly caught fish placed outside the entrance, probably left by fishermen who did not want to have any contact with a certain person and his certain _Black Mamba _book.

The _certain person_ grumbled something that did not sound friendly behind his beard, eyeing the morning delivery. He grappled with the big padlock for a moment. He held the metal deadbolt by its jutted handle.

"How much to ya need, again?" Crabslap asked, taking out a ragged, grey handkerchief and wiping pearled sweat from his forehead.

"A basket, Sir," Hiccup spoke in a carefully casual manner.

"All right, well, I have salted, smoked or pickled in vinegar. Which do ya want?" The older Viking said, opening the door wide.

"Um, fresh, please," The youth said, taking a look inside out of curiosity.

The whole depot burst at the seams with various foods on shelves and in arrels. A strong smell of vinegar pervaded the air. On ceiling hooks, assorted smoked meats hung.

Then, Hiccup spotted the answer to why dragons were not interested in this room so densely packed with food.

On the shelf, next to the dried seaweed, an enormous amount of smoked eel's bodies wreathed about each other.

"Fresh? That's unusual. Well, take one basket from those outside, then. It should probably b' enough for th' whole week," Crabslap said from the inside, looking around the place.

"If I may, Sir, I would like to come here for supplies every...,"

Crabslap's head turned rapidly at that uttered word, making Hiccup stutter for a moment.

"... Uh... e- every two days... Yes, this is what I wanted to say!" Hiccup adopted an innocent expression as if it really was so.

"Every two days? I can't do tha', boy," Crabslap said, quickly.

Hiccup was prepared for such an eventuality as well.

He took out a small leather money sack.

"Here's something extra... just so you know that we teens are serious about it," the teen smiled, showing his horse's teeth in an extra reassuring smile, hoping that it would work.

Crabslap could very well treat this as an insult and tell one of the authorities about it.

"Now yer talkin'!" The adipose Viking said happily, and scooped up the sack as if it were something natural. Maybe it was, but Hiccup did not want to think how many other Vikings had made deals like this.

Masking his surprise, Hiccup walked up to the one of the baskets, but a fast escape was not possible.

Crabslap, ostensibly sensing a similar soul, started talking to the youth. He started describing his work and the many responsibilities it imposed on him. He continued his complaining, moving from subject to subject, sometimes sounding illogical in his arguments.

The thin boy understood his motivations; Crabslap only wanted to make others aware of how bad his situation in life was.

In the end, Hiccup would probably not have remained speechless and commiserated with Crabslap if not for what the Warehouse Master had told him next.

The old Viking spoke about his distant, idealistic, past, how he had pledged his life to protect a woman- his wife. From arrow or sword, from fangs and fire. To try and make sure she would live as comfortably and happily as possible. He had sworn it to himself and to the gods, but there were certain things from which he could not protect her.

She had died long ago, when giving birth to their son. Something went wrong and 'complications' ensued. The child could not get out. The healers finally had managed to get the baby out, but his wife started to bleed and they could not do anything about it.

"She just...she just ran away from me, her life just...leaked through my fingers," Crabslap said hoarsely with tearing eyes.

Hiccup did not know what to say, how to comfort this man. There was no escape from these words and the feelings they evoked.

Hiccup felt Crabslap's pain, because it is the type of person he was.

"Even th' baby," The aged Viking said, tiredly. And the youth felt his neck hair standing up," They could not save him. He was not breathing because the birth took too long... like it was my wife's fault!" he exclaimed, a tear disappearing into his black beard.

He took a breath and cleared his throat, fixing his belt like he had realised just now what he was discussing.

"It is ironic sometimes, isn't it?" Crabslap said, and he patted Hiccup's shoulder. "Yer a good kid, keep it up in the Ring."

They exchanged brief farewells and the Warehouse keeper left, leaving Hiccup with his thoughts and a basket of fish.

The story Crabslap said was not the first Hiccup had heard about childbirth complications and death. Every Viking woman was aware that she might die when trying to bring another life to this world. It was the war all women fought, and not one with the dragons or Outlaws or with other tribes. But it was every bit as dangerous.

The probability of dying when giving birth was as high, if not higher, than the likelihood of dying on the battlefield.

On the morning after a wedding, a Viking husband would give a gift, that was often very valuable, to his bride. It symbolically demonstrated his gratitude that, by marrying him, she was now putting her life at risk to birth their children.

Men fight their wars on the battlefield, women on the birthing stool. This fact was also why so few women decided to remain soldiers in the future, even though they had equal rights to it as men. No matter what path they chose- soldier or mother- to Vikings, they were still considered warriors.

Three weeks later, Hiccup would remember what he had just heard:

"It is, indeed, ironic," the boy then said quietly to himself, shedding a tear for the person nobody else would cry for. ...Looking at the burning boat with Crabslap's dead body in it, sailing peacefully on the calm ocean towards the disappearing sun.

* * *

Silly story time...

On a dark and stormy night in one of the city's laboratories, the Evil Genius™ and his Not-So-Mentally-Gifted-Follower had a conversation.

"What are we going to do tonight, Hiccup, *SNORT*?" Toothless, the Not-So-Mentally-Gifted-Follower, asked, running in his gigantic spinning wheel decorated with flame decals.

"Same as every night, Toothless," Hiccup, the Evil Genius™, dinned from his project table,"We will try to take over the world!"

He started laughing wickedly, rolling up a paper outlining another Failure-Free-Plan™ (results may vary).

"Are we there, yet?" Toothless asked with his tongue lolled out in an oh-so-very-intelligent manner, "I keep running, but I am still in one place!"

Hiccup sighed, hearing another of his servant's usual full-of-wisdom comments, "You just need to run faster, Toothless..."

The dragon started running with more speed, "You know that when you run faster, you can hear something like _pfshhhhhhh_? *SNORT*." Toothless continued, emitting the peculiar sound he heard.

Hiccup cleared his throat, trying to get the impression of total dumbness his dragon was emanating out of his system, "As I was saying, I have an Ultimate Plan! I will use fanfiction to swarm low quality stories to everybody and turn them into mindless zombies! We are progressing, Toothless!" he shouted excitedly.

Toothless was busy chasing his tail, now. "I'm running! I'm running! I'm running!" he repeated, as he tried to bite his tail tip.

"Perceptive, as ever...," Hiccup sighed, and took a deep breath of his Nerdy-Looking-Inhalor, "Good stuff... As I was saying! They already think that sex between a male dragon and a male human is homosexual, while, actually, it is zoophilia! Illegal in lots of countries! People adore pointless and thoughtless stories now! Just one more step…"

"Toothless!... Can you stop trying to lick your elbow? Or whatever you have...," Hiccup said, and shuffled to his laptop in his evil-looking fuzzy black bunny slippers, "Let's see how our malicious plan is progressing...,"

He unrolled his plan, taking off the eye patch he did not really need, "Eight published stories...four slash/yaoi/bestiality ones...three with a summary that the author did not even bother to capitalise or check for any grammar or spelling mistakes... and one song fic! Excellent!"

He suddenly turned to Toothless, who was uttering sounds at the rapidly-rotating table fan, enjoying how it changed his voice.

"Hmm... I do that myself from time to time," Hiccup mused, "But I won't distract myself with such tempting activity right now!

"Toothless! Fetch ... the Fwuff Enchancer ™!" The underweight boy shouted dramatically, "It makes readers feel warm and fuzzy and therefore more accepting of fanfics that eat their minds out!"

He outstretched his hand and waited for the device.

"Toothless?"

He noticed his dog-dragon-pet growl at his reflection and jump forward just to hit the mirror with his head, then shake it and repeat the process.

Hiccup was about to go get the contraption himself when the laptop screen lit up in red.

The scrawny Evil Overlord jumped in front of it and pressed a few buttons.

"What? There are still some quality authors left?... it cannot be! Alas, it shall hinder our plans! Ah... but there are so few of them... I know! I will make them lose their willpower and creativity by giving no reviews!" Hiccup laughed maniacally, twitching his fingers with insane gesticulations.

Then he heard a crack and Toothless's voice.

"I licked my elbow!"

"Oh. Em. Gee. Toothless. you just broke your paw! Just… d-don't-don't move!"

"But I licked my elbow!"

"Yes, that's great... just don't move! I'll call the vet, our world domination will have to wait..."

* * *

AN. Don't try to lick your elbow... seriously. And I really, really would want some evil organisation to be responsible for the level most of the 'writers' here represents. While I am still just an average one, it is still enough to be above the line:/

Reviews as usual are welcome. If you find anything wrong or good with this story or chapter please inform me about it. Thanks.


	17. Touchstone

AN: Another chapter so yeah... enjoy, or not. But before that first thing first. **Fjord Mustang** has published her new story, **"Blind Spot"**. You will go there, read it, and then write her long and lovely review saying why her story is awesome. I'm me, every self respecting reader should read her work. Period. Her stories are a refreshing change to the garbage of horrible slash fics or badly written stories.

So, it's time for Hiccup to get naked.

* * *

The stone rotated slowly as it soared through the air, basking in the morning sun. Thousands of years ago, it had separated from a large mass of rock. Through that time, the rain had refined its surface. Now, it was about to begin its existence in a completely new form.

A blue bolt of light hit the stone, and it blew up, sending thousands of rock particles to the pond beneath.

_Boring_, Toothless thought, twisting his tail around another rock, partially hidden in the ground, next to him. With ease, he plucked it out from the ground and, with a rapid swing of his tail, he tossed it in the air. It flew almost exactly the same way as its predecessor**,** in a sharp parabola. Right before the rock hit the water, Toothless shot out a small fire bolt. It hit the small boulder right in the centre.

_Absolutely boring_, the dragon thought as the target disappeared in a bright blue explosion, and soon minuscule rock pieces started falling into the dark water.

The consoling sense of peace Toothless had felt was officially gone. He felt fed, rested**, **and almost fully healed. The side with his cracked ribs still needed a bit more time to heal fully. He already had finished his self-healing session in the morning**,** and he could not bring himself to stay in one position for such a long time. He felt restless, energized and unable to concentrate.

Naturally, a certain human was responsible for that feeling, again.

_Where is Hiccup?_, he thought peevishly. His relentless feeling of upheaval was fuelled either by the fact that he was unable to fly and that he needed the human's help, or that he was angry at Hiccup.

He corrected himself. He _was_ mad, but he also felt a strong need to see the bipedal. The sooner, the better.

He corrected himself yet again. The_ main_ reason he felt this way was because he was angry at Hiccup for not being here.

_That doesn't make any sense_, he thought, and he dropped to the ground. When he had first 'played' with Hiccup, he had felt happy. As reluctant as he was to admit it, he enjoyed the little one's company. Throwing him in the air had been meant to serve as a punishment. At least until Toothless started enjoying it together with the little one.

The Fury liked Hiccup**,** and he did not want to ponder over the reasons for it. If his life had taught him anything about 'feelings', it was that you had no control over them. Therefore**, **pondering why he felt attracted to the human who had crippled him was not something remotely worth his time.

He needed Hiccup to help him fly again and, after that, he could tell him, "Keep yourself warm" a dragon way of saying farewell, and fly away. Scalgertar had made him fly again for a moment**,** and he was sure that Hiccup would use his human tricks again so that Toothless would fly in no time. How hard could it be?

Hiccup _would_ make him fly again. Toothless did not even consider any other option, though at one time he would have, before he met Hiccup.

Hiccup would help him fly again.

_I am going to make him pay for making me wait for so long... right afterI eat the food he brings, of course!_

* * *

Hiccup walked slowly**,** using his usual path. After the recent talk with Crabslap, Hiccup was filled with thoughts he wished he did not have. He took his time walking, hoping the cool air and quiet forest engulfed in the morning mist would scatter away those feelings.

* * *

_Something is wrong_, Toothless thought, hiding behind a tree trunk, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting human to scare him a bit. The sable dragon felt an elusive sense of distress that must have had belonged to his feeder.

He moved closer to the crack from which Hiccup was always coming and waited patiently. His playful demeanour vanished, just to be substituted by a sense of increasing worry. The Fury did not want the boy to be hurt or feel bad about something. Toothless needed him to fly**,** after all, or at least that was how he explained his concern about the youth to himself. Unsatisfied with this logic, he added the thought of himself as the leader of their Athet and that he must look after hatchlings. Or something.

By the time he had finished analyzing his motives, he smelled an acute scent of animal leather and fish. Soon the petite figure of Hiccup emerged from the crack.

The boy jumped in fright**,** seeing the dragon looming above him with a serious look in his eyes**, **studying his body.

Hiccup vocalised something with reproach, almost dropping a large piece of black leather he was holding.

Toothless scanned the boy for a bit longer and then snorted at himself how silly he had been to worry. The sadness still did not disappear from the dragon's mind, though, and with a sigh, he turned to the boy again and trotted closer to him. It seemed when the skinny meat bag before him was sad, he felt it as well. It was annoying and Toothless wanted it to stop.

_Why they did not teach us how to liquidate human sadness? _He thought angrily.

They looked at each other**, **and then Hiccup started avoiding the jet black dragon's boring gaze.

The Fury had no idea what to do. The youth smiled widely, looking uncertain of the current situation.

_Why does he show that he is happy when he is not? It is so confusing_, The dragon wondered, narrowing his eyes.

Unfolding his right wing**,** Toothless decided to deal with it in only way he knew.

"T-Toothless?" Hiccup said,terrified**,** looking at the wing.

With a tedious expression, the Fury smacked the human on the skull with his wing. The feeling of unhappiness immediately disappeared.

_Looks like it works on every species_, The smirking dragon congratulated himself.

Hiccup,apparently, did not share his enthusiasm. He held his head and rubbed it while whining loudly. The boy soon stopped groaning and said something that most probably challenged the dragon's current mental state.

Hiccup knocked over the fish-containing thing at the usual spot by the lake and sat cross-legged**,** holding the weird smelling leather thing on his lap.

Toothless was not really hungry, but he munched the fish**,** nevertheless. His fun was disturbed**,** however**,** by his fellow clanmate**, **who decided to to change from being sad to being nervous. Hiccup looked from the leather thing to Toothless when he thought that the Fury was not looking.

Hiccup thought wrong.

There was nothing peculiar about the leather-smelling thing. Toothless wondered if that was the next thing that would help him fly!

With this merry thought, he devoured the rest of the fish hastily from the ground, feeling sand grinding between his teeth. With a last smack of his lips, he rose and nudged his snout against the leather-thing passionately,his tail waggling from excitement.

The small boy stood up**,** as well,with a very serious expression. As an encouragement**,** Toothless wrote down two words that Hiccup had taught him in the grassy soil.

**WHAT IT?**

_Sometimes I feel bad to be so perfect_, he thought proudly.

The scared- looking boy lifted the leather-thing and put it across the frantic dragon's back at his shoulder level with carefully measured movements.

_It is not so bad_, Toothless thought, _I wonder what it is supposed to do?_

He looked back at the youth, who was tapping the dragon's left front leg**, **holding a large leather ring in his hands. The Fury obediently started to raise his paw when he remembered something.

With a vicious snarl, he jerked his body,making the saddle drop to the ground and unceremoniously knocking Hiccup down with his wing as he leapt forward.

Toothless remembered what the leather thing was**,** now. It was something humans used to ride certain animals. Ride! And now, for some reason, Hiccup wanted to treat him like some... animal?

The dragon growled dangerously**, **lowering his body. He was so surprised by this action that he did not know what to think. This was absolutely not a thing he had expected from Hiccup. It was not the boy's apologising posture, but his determined eyes that kept him from jumping on the youth. If the boy had showed any weakness in his gaze, Toothless would have attacked.

Slowly, making all his movements clearly visible, Hiccup grabbed the saddle and showed it plainly to the dragon. Then the youth lay the saddle on the ground and took out his notebook carefully, not leaving Toothless' eyes even for a moment. He made a few small steps forward, sat down, gestured with his hand at the area in front of him, and waited.

Toothless was breathing deeply, showing his fangs. The first emotions settled down a bit, enabling him to reason more clearly. He understood that the Scalgertar had some reason to do that. The furious dragon was able to understand Hiccup's emotions enough to know the boy wanted to explain himself.

A small blast of energy shattered the ground next to the youth. However, the boy did not even flinch or change his expression, even though his heart quickened and he smelled more of fear. That was soothing for the dragon. He liked determination and courage. He huffed, flicking his head, making his point clear, and he walked closer to his bipedal clanmate.

Hiccup opened his notebook and showed him a picture of the saddle. Toothless watched it for a moment with slitted eyes before looking at the boy again. Hiccup was not using his pencil, and that meant that he had expected such an outcome and had come prepared.

Toothless felt a nudge of curiosity overtake his anger.

The next page pictured Toothless flying over the trees with Hiccup on his tail holding the fin-thing. The boy flipped the page and showed the Fury dropping into the pond without anyone on his tail. Hiccup tapped his drawn tail a few times.

The dragon nodded**,** understanding. He could not control the thing by himself. His eyes widened as he began to understand where this all was going.

Hiccup showed another picture with Toothless saddled**,** and the next one with Hiccup sitting on the saddle with a rope attached to the fan-thing. Before the teen was able to show the picture of Toothless dropping into the water and him controlling the thing to emphasise the point, the dragon was already on all fours snarling and puffing with contempt, pacing from side to side.

Hiccup waited for this to end and**,** as soon as he got dragon's attention again, he showed him the drawings again.

Toothless snorted annoyingly**; **he understood what Hiccup meant. He could not fly without somebody controlling the tail-thing,and that someone would have to be the miniscule human.

"Is there no other way?" The anxious Fury barked and then started trotting around again in frustration, realizing Hiccup did not understand him.

The boy, with absolute patience, showed him drawings once more and nodded a few times. Toothless felt how serious the Scalgertar was**, **and the dragon started feeling nervous. He wanted to fly again, sure, but not with the skinny human on his back.

_Do you have any other way?_ His reasoning voice asked in his head.

Hiccup must have felt Toothless' resolve weakening**, **as he stood up and took the saddle. He started approaching,nodding his head, his eyes started shining with an eager gleam that the dragon did not enjoy.

The Fury took a few steps back as Hiccup came closer**,** shaking his head furiously as he imitated the typical human negation gesture.

The boy nodded more deeply and slowly**,** his steps quickening.

Toothless' mind was going hazy with all the thoughts attacking him**;** he did not want to have a saddle on himself, but he wanted to fly again.

Unable to decide, he started running away with Hiccup sprinting behind him and yelling. There was no way any human could have matched Toothless with speed, but there was also no way that the bony youth would give up.

The chase lasted for a long time, the dragon easily avoiding Hiccup. The boy was breathing heavily and sweating profusely. Toothless heard clearly, now, the abnormal working of Scalgertar's lung**,** and it made him feel a bit concerned. Humans healed in their own ways, but whatever they were doing for Hiccup, it was not working. Toothless thought about trying to help cure the stubborn teen

The Fury was so deep in thought about curing the youth, that he did not spot Hiccup's figure shambling dangerously close.

With a victorious-sounding human roar, the boy managed to grab Toothless' neck with one hand, grasping the saddle in in the other.

The angry Fury started jumping and kicking in a way that would have put many horses to shame, but still not so violently that Hiccup would get hurt .

"Go fall!" Toothless cursed loudly**,** shaking his head**,** but his newly acquired "beauty accessory" did not think of letting go. With another kick, the sleek dragon's claw caught in Hiccup's clothes**,** as Toothless now heard the sounds of material ripping.

"Scalgertar?" Toothless asked, panicked, looking down at the human in terror. The last thing the Fury wanted was to hurt Hiccup.

_Not permanently_, _anyway_. A sense of increasing anger changed Toothless' view as he felt the human's small hands grappling up his back, the youth using the momentary lapse in the Fury's kicking to get a stronger grip on Toothless.

. Considering how tired Hiccup was**,** he was quite good at dragon climbing.

_Enough of this_, Toothless thought, calming his body and mind, waiting for the right moment.

His pupils narrowed. His tail bent in an almost impossible angle and**, **in a swift movement**,** he grabbed Hiccup by the ankle.

His trophy squirmed, trying to get himself lopse. Without taking a glance at Hiccup, Toothless spun in place and threw the boy high over the lake. The saddle fell out from the youth's grasp and**,** before it dropped on the ground, the ebony dragon shot a lazuline blast, making a hole in the middle of the saddle. It hit the ground, smoking from the ripped opening.

Hiccup watched this as he flew**, **yelling in protest loudly.

_He must be getting used to the routine by now_, Toothless thought**, **seeing- and hearing- the boy's shout silenced by the water. The youth disappeared beneath the surface after loudly striking it.

Almost immediately, Hiccup emerged and swam to the shore, furiously stroking the water with his hands.

He stepped out from the pond and, soaking wet, he looked down at the destroyed saddle. He took it in his hands, disbelief mixed with anger coloring his face. He whammed his invention to the ground as hard as he could with a frustrated yell**,** and he started jumping on it.

The dragon's eyes widened in shock. It was not because of his clanmate's action, but because of what he saw through the large rip in Hiccup's green woollen tunic, exposing partially his chest.

As a final ackowledgement of his failure, the panting teen grabbed the saddle and threw it as far as his tiny hands allowed him to. Only then, he turned his eyes to Toothless. They were filled with large amount of ire, and even bigger amount of pure sorrow.

He noticed that the dragon was not looking into his eyes. Looking down**,** Hiccup noticed the state of his tunic. With a gasp, he grabbed the torn material and pulled the hole shut with a quick movement of his hand. Toothless felt a very strong sense of shame and embarrassment emanating from the boy.

Hiccup started running towards the exit without any warning. His path was almost instantly intercepted by the Toothless's black mass.

* * *

The teen looked at the dragon, who stared back at him with his big eyes, full of what seemed to be worry rather than resentfulness from the saddle encounter. Hiccup felt confused by the sudden change in the Fury's body language, but the only thing he wanted to do was to get out of this place.

He turned to the left and did not make even one step when Toothless mirrored his movement and blocked his way again. The boy squeezed the torn material on his tunic harder, feeling the water weighing his clothes down and sipping the heat away. He tried again to slip around the weird-acting dragon, but with one quick step**, **Toothless kept him from passing.

"Let me go," Hiccup said sternly, glaring at the big pupils filling the dragon's eyes. He tried walking away, without success. He did not know what more to say to Toothless; the teen had made it more than apparent that he wanted to be left alone, why could the Fury not understand that?

Then he heard a whine emerging from Toothless' throat and his head lowered to Hiccup ,ear antennas lying flatly on his sleek, short neck. The dragon whined louder, then he slowly opened his mouth and closed it softly on the upper end of the tunic's hole, ripping it even wider, making the deformed and mangled skin tissue even more visible.

"No!" Hiccup yelled forcefully, yanking violently the fabric out from Toothless' teeth.

The dragon's head recoiled as the boy's shout echoed throughout the cove. The boy crossed his arms over his scars tightly and started running. The stone walls of the pit started to be suffocatingly small,and Toothless' presence was making him feel suffocating fear. The dragon himself was not the cause, rather the fright from being seen without any clothes concealing his scars. He wanted to be in his room once again, to look at the reassuring wooden walls and the forever-unfinished drawing of his mother. A place where nobody ever asked him questions and burned him with guilt-invoking stare. Where he was alone. He wanted to be away from this, away from feeling unsafe and making somebody see him like that.

Snotlout might have been right, maybe it was his fault.

"_That _is why you always wear clothes covering your whole body, so others won't see what you did!" Snotlouts voice yelled in his mind.

He was right. Hiccup would not let anyone see it. It was his fault. His and only his. His damaged body was the ultimate proof of it.

The familiar sensation of a dragon tail wrapping around his hips cut his escape short.

"Let me go, Toothless!" He shouted half in fury, half in desperation, using all his strength to get free. The dragon's tail entrapped him lightly**, **yet it was as hard as steel. It was completely immobile beneath his fingers,not budging even a half of a nail length as Hiccup's boots kicked into the earth.

"Stop, dammit!" Hiccup cried out, writhing in the dragon's tail-trap. Did Toothless want to play that weird game again, or did he want to humiliate him? The boy did not like the dragon's behaviour. Did not like even a bit of it. Why did Toothless not understand him? He wanted to be alone! Alone with his shame and hurting heart. He wanted to deal with it as he always did: by himself.

Feeling himself unable to stop the emotions from welling, he shouted in sheer despair**, **his eyes closed, "_**Just-!" **_

He never finished this sentence.

He immediately forgot what he wanted to say or what to think. He could only release a small sigh, as if in giant relief.

Toothless' head now lay flatly against the boy's chest scars, emanating warmth. The dragon crooned softly**,** moving closer, letting the boy's back rest against his chest, gently squeezing the scrawny frame with his muzzle. He enfolded Hiccup into his wings in an unmistakable**, **empathetic hug.

Just a moment ago**,** Hiccup would have given anything to be back in his own room, but now he only wanted for this awkward embrace to last forever.

There were no words to describe it. It just felt good and he needed that. He wanted to be held, to be accepted and cared for, and he wanted even more.

His hands rose above the ebony neck. This time he did not wonder if he deserved this- or if he should even do this. Hiccup wanted to be selfish. His hands circled and closed tightly on the dragon's neck, hugging the dragon back.

Toothless let out a sigh, sounding almost identical to Hiccup, and let his eyelids close.

* * *

The boy's hands moved on his skin, not in the way they had before. _These _were not hesitant movements, full of cautiousness and measured. The human's hands were rough and clumsy; like a starving predator they chased on his skin, eating away all thoughts and worry with them.

Toothless had not been worried until Hiccup had started running away. He was emanating such sadness that the dragon's streamlined body reacted automatically. He did not want Hiccup to leave, not in this way, escapting just to isolate himself with his sorrow.

Toothless wanted to be there for the boy. The worried Fury _needed _to do something. The dragon sensed that if**,** he would let the boy go, he might not be back.

Toothless did not want Hiccup to leave him.

Now he purred, vibrations shaking his whole body, and his mind filling with the cosy feeling of belonging.

A soothing bliss radiated out from the human's fingers. Toothless started exhaling deeply through his mouth as he fell into deeper into this welcoming bond, his breath and body getting warmer, and his heart pounding strongly. Without realizing it, he started rubbing his head against Hiccup's chest. This was a gesture reserved only for closest members of the Athet to show kindness to a clan member.

Toothless missed this feeling mix of simple pleasure**, **but it was also something more, something not physical yet touching him deeply, not visible, but making his world brighter. It was not a fire but yet it made him feel warmer**,** even on the coldest nights. The strength of others. The invisible web of connections with everybody close to you. These were able to penetrate your heart, intrude your mind with their lives and problems, the involuntary thoughts you had about them. Was it just a sense of caring, or was is something more? Was it a long restrained desire or just simple instinct?

Toothless was still asking himself these questions when Hiccup emanated a quiet gasp full of pain.

The dragon's head jerked up**,** and his eyes opened. The pleasurable mist engulfing his mind disappeared suddenly as he saw the irritated skin on the boy's wet chest, now being covered quickly by his hand. His other hand slid sluggishly from Toothless's neck, but with tremendous reluctance.

Slowly the embrace was broken, and Hiccup took a step forward from the protective grasp.

Toothless' ears flattened**,** and his posture slumped. He fought down his independent pride so he could try to stop the Scalgertar again.

"Don't leave..." Toothless sung quietly.

_...Me...,_ he added in his mind. Even though Hiccup could not understand him, Toothless still could not say his feelings out loud easily. He did not feel that secure around his clanmate yet.

"I want to know more..."

_About you_

The boy stood in place; his back did not betray anything. He only trembled from the cold. Hiccup's posture then straightened**,** and he walked, but not towards the exit.

Toothless watched with bursting happiness and gratefulness as the wet youth collected several small pieces of wood and piled them in one place. The dragon knew, then, what the human wanted to create.

The Fury let out a low sound, getting Hiccup's attention.

Toothless quickly dug a shallow, circular hole in the soil. He used his tail to pick up a nearby medium-sized quartz stone and place it into the hole.

Then he started heating it steadily with his flame. First the heated surface started shining in yellow, then red.

The Fury stopped his flame when the whole stone was ruby in colour. Dragons did not need fire to keep them warm, but hatchlings were calmer when something shiny or glowing was near them. Toothless remembered how he used to have a favourite rock as a youngling. When it was cold, it was white, but when he heated, it turned into crystal, translucent and beautifuly mesmerising as the heat waves travelled inside it, as though the flame itself was trapped beneath. He called it _the warm water._ The stone could glow for a very long time**, **and the heat it radiated would be very useful now for the human.

Toothless lay in front of the stone and waited.

Hiccup's lips curled up in a small smile , and he took a few straight, large wooden sticks with his one hand, the other still holding closed the ripped tunic.

_He still does not want it to be seen_, the dragon thought**,** laying his head in the ground. There was nothing else he could do. It was his clanmate's decision what to do now.

Hiccup stepped hesitantly near the heated rock and installed two wood pieces in the ground with a third on top. Standing with his back to Toothless, Hiccup stretched his hands to the rock and after a moment, he rubbed his hands together, keeping them close to his face. Then, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

He started undressing hastily, to keep hypothermia from setting in. His boots and socks first.

Toothless gazed on, not wanting to let any moment slip from his memory.

The shaking youth placed his socks on the improvised branch drying rack and took off his vest and trousers. Thanks to the youth, the dragon knew all the names for the human covers. With the same unhesitating movements, Hiccup removed his underwear and stood only with his green shirt on him .

The dragon watched the youth's thin legs, thinking how fragile the creature in front of him was.

Slowly, the boy grabbed the shirt by the collar on his back and the material started sliding off him.

The skin underneath was ragged and irregular, discoloured in shades of red and white. The burns showed themselves just a bit above the bottom of Hiccup's rib cage. The skin's surface was ravaged with small protrusions and depressions. It was impossible to spot, even for such perceptive eyes as the dragon's, any natural looking skin left on the boy's back. It was just a maze of scars, irregular, with porous ridges carved into the flesh, swollen and horrid.

However, it was the right side of the youth's back that made Toothless' eyes widen. He had seen many burns in his life, but never one that looked so bad as this section. A little below Hiccup's shoulder blade was a deep depression . Toothless needed just a glance to tell that a fragment of back muscles was missing and, most probably, the ones responsible for the right arm movement were damaged as well.

The boy used his left hand more often; the dragon had noticed that early, and this might have been due to his right side's extensive injury. It was amazing that the youth was able to move at all, let alone move his right arm.

Toothless scanned the rest of the skin on Hiccup's back. It all looked the same; the scars were deep and looked like they had not healed without complications.

The dragon's heart did not fill with sadness at this sight, but with pride and acceptance. Hiccup was a warrior, the _Darangu_r He should wear those scars proudly, not hide them and feel so sad about them. What story did those injuries tell?

Toothless looked on and waited.

The naked boy, standing near the burning rock**,** had not been shivering for some time now**,** his skin dry and feeling warm. In a swift movement, with only a slight hesitation**,** he turned to the Fury, trying to look as resolute as he could.

Toothless looked at the burned chest**,** not adverting his eyes even for a second. However, when he eventually did see Hiccup's green, heart-piercing eyes and his smile, the dragon had to close his own. Not because of the seeming satisfaction radiating from the boy's face, but how painfully false it looked.

It also reminded Toothless of one other thing. Those were the eyes of a person who had done some terrible crime**,** and his whole mind was eaten away by conscience.

The eyes of a penitent murderer.

_He watched as his brother's blood-soaked jaws stopped clutching their sister's throat. His brother raised his head slowly from her unmoving body and back at him._

"_Looks like I'm the one who's leaving," he said, turning away. He started stepping slowly out of the cavern, but with his head raised proudly. Once he turned back to his brother, who lay on the ground in shock._

"_Please," he said in a tone that begged," Please, don't die..."_

"Toothless" Hiccup's voice disturbed this memory with his gentle call. The dragon's eyelids opened reluctantly, but the youth's self-blaming eyes were gone. The boy's eyes shone with their natural green light. He had his head turned to the side, looking up into the sky, a strong feeling of simple embarrassment emanating him. The reclining Fury knew that it was due to the boy's awkwardness about his wounded body and also something else.

"Can I-?" Before Hiccup was able to finish his question. Toothless leaned more on his side, lifted his folded wing and jerked with his head to the side. The boy swiped a hand through his hair ,radiating even more with abashment, but the dragon also felt a strong pulse of happiness as well. The boy approached and then looked unsurely at the dragon's side, hesitating.

With a rather annoyed grunt, Toothless swiped his tail and pushed Hiccup gently to lie back against his body. The Fury felt embarrassed, as well. He had never insisted on this before, something just because he wanted to be touched and to feel somebody close.

* * *

The scrawny youth sat next to Toothless and leaned back carefully. The dragon's skin was very warm and soft on the upper part where his back touched. As it went lower, the first visible scales sprouted, and he could feel their smooth surface with his lower back, along with steel-hard muscles. The dragon was as tense as he was.

After Hiccup had learned how to tend to his burns by himself, he did not show them to anyone. Now, he was near this weird version of a dragon-stone-fireplace**, **leaning against a dragon, naked. But he felt less and less worried, and more and more thirsty for closeness with this amazing beast. Toothless did not look at him with pity or act like Hiccup should be ashamed. He was being overly nice and letting the boy touch him more than he had allowed, before. It was as though Toothless did it to help Hiccup, somehow, and only this thought was able to melt any defence Hiccup had against showing his scarred body.

"Toothless," The boy said**, **putting his face against the dragon's skin and gliding over its roughened surface with his fingers. The dragon had a faint smell of soot and old leather. The Fury's skin was not soiled, rather it was beautifully clean and sleek. Perhaps the dragon would reveal how he washed himself in the future.

Toothless turned his head towards him, curling his neck in a strong curve, giving him an interested look.

"Are you...happy now?" Hiccup asked, just before he bit his tongue. In suspense, he stopped his hand movement and looked into Fury's eyes.

Toothless looked down, almost instantly in the way a person avoids an obvious and painful answer, making the boy's heart hurt. Then the dragon turned to look at the rock's glow.

Hiccup had done it again. This time even asked about it. Forgiveness. He wanted it. Even more than this soothing warmness, a feeling of unconditional acceptance and the simple presence that could make all problems vanish. Being forgiven? Would this burden of guilt ever be lifted? Would it stick to his life like the burns he carried, forever reminding and accusing. Hiccup's palm closed into a fist. Acceptance of the consequences, redemption... cleansing, how empty those words feel against the simple facts life shows you.

How did Toothless feel about what Hiccup had done to the dragon's tail? Even though the boy wanted to know, he would not ask or force the answer. Even though their bodies were close, the distance between their hearts was still vast.

"Toothless...**,**" Hiccup said for the third time, relaxing his body and mind, and the dragon looked at him again, with patience and kindness," You want to hear a story? " The dragon tilted his head a bit, not changing his inquisitive stare.

The youth spoke, making himself comfortable on the dragon's smooth hide, and looking at the fire source and how the heat travelled through the stone. It was like the fire was sealed inside. It was so beautiful and so serene.

"Once upon a time there lived a small boy...," Hiccup started in a quiet voice," He was as small as every other baby when he was young,and he liked to play. However, that boy disappeared in a big fire, forgotten. The new boy who took his place tried to remember his past self, but he couldn't**,** no matter how he tried. His father... probably hated him and closed himself off before the boy, leaving him to deal with with his loneliness all by himself," Hiccup smiled sadly," The boy tried to win father's affection by mimicking him... one time."

* * *

The Scalgertar spoke long. He spoke freely, and with an open heart. His emotions travelled through him**,** and even the world around him seemed to lose its light when he spoke about something sad. The sun seemed to glow brighter as he talked about a person close to him. The world was swirling with many colours and shades as he spoke. Or was it that the dragon got enchanted into his story, and he felt now the youth's feelings clearer than before?

The boy was small, but as he touched his burns with his hands, Toothless sensed the youth's heart was heavy.

The youth stopped his tale ,then, and looked at the stone with calm expression.

Toothless felt a connection with Hiccup, then. Not one based on some unexplained urge or ancient ritual. This little human was similar to him, a familiar heart filled with guilt and loss. No words were necessary to understand it. The dragon felt secure and good with somebody next to him. He could trust this presence.

His eyes closed slowly, unable to resist the release of the tension he carried.

_Another boundary was broken, another line vanished from the ground, stepped over gracefully by the laughing boy. Toothless mimicked the movements, feeling joyous himself._

_Get closer! Closer! Another line! Almost there!_

_They both danced around each other in harmony and understanding._

The dragon continued dreaming peacefully.

* * *

Hiccup had told everything he felt he wanted, using words that sometimes did not make sense, just letting the emotions flow out.

Taking a breath, he looked at the sleeping Toothless.

Without any other word, not wanting to disturb the dragon, he stood up carefully and dressed himself as quietly as he could into his, now , warm and dry clothes.

He picked up his notebook and, after a moment of thought**,** left the tailfin and the saddle on the ground.

He regretted already that he had to leave this place. This seemed to be the only place where he felt welcome and he could just be himself.

He started running, hoping to clear his mind before the next training. He still had some time before it,and he knew exactly what he would do with that time. Right after he changed out of this tunic first, naturally.

* * *

The procession of people obediently walked towards the ship. The front of the line already was disappearing into the depths of the vessel. Children, women, men, all of them cuffed, and walking in eerie silence. Only the chains restricting their movements made any audible sound. Their path was covered with smoke, still emerging from the destroyed buildings . None of the imprisoned people looked at the dead human and animal corpses scattered around or at the soldiers standing to either side with crossbows taut. After the fight it was never different, she was going in and there was no more resistance, no more reason to force people to surrender. They all marched as though ensorcelled, staring without any light or reason and without any word of complaint.

_Like the rats following that shitty guy with his shitty flute_, Fadey, the ship's bosun thought, posing a crooked smile and looking at the crowd, smelling the odour of smoke and death.

It was impossible that those people, Vikings, would go so willingly to be enslaved. They were Vikings! They would fight until the end. Fadey had seen so many of their warriors slashing through their attacking lines, sometimes alone, with their eyes glistening madly, laughing!

Even with their Empire firearms and seemingly better tactics and weapons they still had heavy losses from the Vikings. But that she-bastard just walked into the firey village, and when she walked out, a stream of people was following her.

It was impossible, but it was happening. It was all cursed. It must have been an evil omen. The bosun swore quietly and grabbed the cross he carried on his chest through the dark jacket he wore.

All of the Empire soldiers wore dark uniforms. Black to be exact: black jackets, cloaks, trousers, heavy boots and armour. It was a joke that all of the soldiers had blackened their privates as well. How the enemy talked about them was not a joke, that the Empire soldiers were as dark as their hearts, merciless and cruel. And the paths they left were always dark from soot and cinders.

Fadey remembered how he used to enjoy the sound of women screaming and begging for mercy beneath his feet. He used to be the best, no village stayed after his unit passed through. Especially women. They were never left... intact. How he loved the thrill of the battle and the feeling of his blade cutting through the bones! In a normal Empire army, all such actions were punished just like deserters: by hanging.

His group, however, was a special one. A collection of finest criminals powered that unit. Their mission was simple**: **seed hesitation in the enemy's heart. They all were more than motivated to do so. They all did it with great soldier's sacrifice. There were a ew more other units like their one, all kept in secret. Dressed like a common thieves**, **they earned their reputation. Some earned names. Fadey was proud of =his unit's name: _The Rats_,or the official name**,** _Murderers of the South_.

Essex County was a good hunting ground for them.

However, all those small pleasures were taken from him when he was called to serve on one of the frigates. Unfortunately for him**,** he had a lot of sailing experience he had received as a youngling.

It was a more classified mission than the previous one. His mission was to help**,** however necessary**,** "Number One". This was how it was written in the orders. _Help, however necessary_. In his mind, he already had the visions of him raiding cities and buildings, gaining unimaginable wealth and power. He wanted to _help_ as much as he did before, but there was no need for that.

The job turned out to be just like a dream holiday. He almost did nothing, just maintain the ship, eat, sleep and watch the show from afar without worry that he would die in the process.

He did not mind staying alive; however, he could not quench his desire to burn and kill. He felt sometimes his legs moving against his will as he watched the attacking force clashing with the defence line. _She n_ever joined or used her shitty tricks. Just watched from the ship's deck at the forces fighting with each other.

_Sh_e also never talked anything longer than one sentence orders that were always done without a word of complain. How was it possible for a female to order around a band of murderers, rapists and war criminals?

She had achieved it by killing half of the crew in the first week. One woman, killing over 30 men, all experienced in fighting and for whom considering if to stab you and watch you bleed out was as common as shaking hands. Only shaking hands was performed more rarely.

When she first took the command of the unit**,** she made one thing clear, you obey, you live longer. Nobody took her seriously at first. As all men a unit with only one female around, Fadey was more than sure that healthy guys would try to get an advantage of this situation by reminding the woman why she was _only_ a woman and she should know her position: on the floor with her hands tied behind her back.

He never get himself involved. From their female leader**,** he could feel an aura of danger. Perhaps it was due to many years of experience. However, he could feel that that woman was death. The one that crawls towards you and first makes your legs shake and covers your skin with sinking gluey sweat. You can only wait with eyes widely open in terror and with your heartbeat filling your ears until you watch yourself die. He just felt that**,** under no circumstances**,** he should cross the path with that woman if he wanted to stay alive.

Fadey gave the crew a week until they would try something. They managed to withstand the temptation for three days. Five of them went down first just to never come back. Nobody knew what happened to them. It stirred agitation and curiosity and a tiny bit of fear. The smarter ones backed off and just went on with their duties. Howerver, intelligence was rarely seen when a group of mentally unbalanced males gathered, following their most primitive instincts.

The second time**,** more than twenty caught her at night in the supply hull,smelling an easy prey. On the second day**,** all of their bodies covered the deck. Fadey saw during his life many kinds of death**,** and their slashed bodies did not move him, but seeing the men's faces frozen in a grimace of absolute horror made the shiver crawl through his spine. He was right about that woman. Even though most of the time he was right**,** he wished that in this case he was wrong. There was a very loud and short speech woman-leader, Number One, gave. A few public executions followed and instantly she had an obedient crew full of soldiers whose only dream was to serve under the Empire's banner. Fadey understood the reason perfectly. All animals understood fear the most. Humans were no exception.

They had to resupply and get more people for the ones that were killed. There was not even a single act of insubordination since then.

Fadey put his dark gloved hand on the railing and looked down. They had to quickly build the platform because Vikings had destroyed the old one. The line stopped in front of the opened space in the ship's hold.

At the left side**, **Number One stood with two soldiers at the sides stopping every passing person . Number one was without her helmet, putting a hand on head of every prisoner and telling what colour they should be marked, red or blue. Most of the people were marked with red, only a few received a blue one. The routine was simple: sail to an island, break the resistance, take as many prisoners alive as possible, go to the meeting point and turn in captured people and receive the crew. Repeat.

They were getting farther up north**,** and the risk of them being spotted by other military vessels was rising exponentially. Last time**,** one of the two destroyers guarding them was lost because they were trapped by few Viking _knars _between islands where they could not manoeuvre well and use the boats' speed to their advantage. People knew that they were coming**, **and they were doing everything in their power to stop them.

Another human figure marked with red moved forward , without any resistance or word. The next one was a teenage girl with such breathtaking beauty that it made Fadey forget all of the orders and think only how he could get his hands on this blond girl. When they would move again he would go to the cargo hold and have all the time with her he would want. Yes, that was a good idea.

His desire completely disappeared as he felt the well known fear moving on his body.

He moved his eyes a bit to the left and looked into the unmoving and unforgiving, piercing blue eyes of Number One. She was not beautiful**;** in Fadey's opinion she looked average. She had short hair as every soldier did**,** deeply tanned skin,a bit too small nose; there was nothing extraordinary in her except those eyes and hair. Her hair was white like snow and her eyes blue like sapphire. Fadey was unable to look away from those eyes, his legs shaking, feeling a strong need to urinate,not collapsing only because he held the railing.

_She knows... that demon knows!_ This thought repeated itself in his numb mind. Finally, the white-haired woman averted her gaze to another prisoner. Fadey breathed in deeply, noticing that he was not breathing, then he slowly fell on his knees**, **still holding the railing. A few sweat drops splashed on the deck's board.

He was going to go to the cargo hull later, he decided**, **gathering strength and wiping the forehead with his dark sleeve. But he would not do anything his Number One would not like... he would take care of the prisoners and make them stay alive just as ordered and**,** God his witness**,** he _would_ do it.

He did not want to die yet.

* * *

The sorting was done. Two percent passed the testing, not much, but still hundreds times better than in the Mainland**, **where the percentage oscillated always close to zero, still the way it was performed made her cringe in disgust whenever she thought about it. She could not show her feelings since she was Number One on this mission, or a more fitting name, _project._ To posess as many human resources as possible, but for what? Those people did not end up as slaves or work force. She did not know, she received the orders and followed them, soldiers never asked. They did as they were told.

She walked in the island's woods now, heading towards the hot springs the scanner had showed before. Only her leather-like armour made sounds**,** together with the hooded cloak as she walked in a quick pace, dodging trees and bushes. Almost immediately, she had found the path leading there, undoubtedly the one that was extensively used by the tribe that lived on the island. Used to live**,** now.

The path ended and she saw an opening with many ponds in the ground, all with smoke coming out of them and some of them bubbling, smelling of sulphur. There were also a few benches in front of them and a big fireplace at the side. She looked for a moment empty space and then walked to one of the smallest ponds. It was too small for her, however, she was not the one that was going to take a bath. She took off her cloak, folded it neatly and put on the yellowed grass by the warm water.

The previously cloaked body showed her full armour. It was as every other part of equipment black and looked as if made of leather; the one thing that hit the eyes was how neatly this protection was attached to skin as if it made the second skin itself. On the heart level there was a symbol, a white ring creating a sun shield with beams radiating from it in every direction, around it was a something that looked like a snake that bit its own tail, creating a circle.

Tired of waiting**,** she put her hand behind her back and**,** with a sharp movement**,** she took something off her back. With a sigh**, **she looked at the angrily squirming and hissing small dragon figure.

"You are not getting out of a bath this time," She said emotionlessly, looking directly into his deeply yellow eyes. He was as long as her arm, excluding the sleek tail that was almost as long as his body. His body did not have any scales on it, only a smooth surface that looked more like frog's than a reptile's. The body was as yellow as his narrowed eyes**, **their black pupils slitted in anger. His tail was tightly folded around the capturing hand.

The dragon showed his small pointed teeth on a long muzzle without any horns. He had all four paws capped with small claws and now was trying to slash the armoured hand without any result, flapping the small wings. Seeing how ineffective his struggles were, he opened his jaws.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" The white-haired woman,asked not changing her tone, with her head on her hand," You remember how it ended the last time?"

The dragon closed his jaws, snorted and puffed his throat slightly, looking away. With a sigh she dropped the dragon gently to the rock by the pond," You like swimming**,** and I know that you do not like how the water smells, but I won't have the smelly mud-shade ride my back," She said as gently as she could, taking her gloves off, but she earned another snort in response for calling him mudshade. She smiled and took the dragon in a tight embrace. He moved for a moment, but he stopped soon and closed his eyes in the pleasure that human touch brought.

"I know, you are the mighty Yellow Death, the terror of the swamps!" She said proudly, and she held the dragon up, looking at the proudly puffed chest and a smirk on the yellow muzzle. It was so small, so fragile and young and already gave her more love and affection she could ever want. Around him she could act like the war did not exist, just as she could around her son she used to have, his body used to be the same size...it was so long ago.

The small dragon whined quietly, feeling the change in the human's behaviour.

Number One squeezed the dragon rightly again, this time harder and heard a few muffled growls," I am sorry**,** Melleth, I almost forgot that it's time for your bath!" She spoke with a smile, showing her white teeth. The mighty Yellow Death,Terror of the Swamp's body was numb, looking like a yellow scarf as it dangled loosely in her hands in defeat. The woman was talking soothingly as she slowly put the dragon's body into the warm water. Melleth hissed and held the hand with his tail at first, but soon relaxed and started swimming and diving, playing in the water and from time to time doing barrelrolls or sudden jumps, always looking at the woman to make sure that she noticed his trick. She giggled at each one and said a few words of praise. Suddenly the yellow dragon shrieked in fear and jumped out from the water with amazing speed, hiding behind the back of the sitting woman.

"It's all right," She said quietly, petting Melleth's head," Don't worry**,** Mommy will protect you," She stood up and flicked her hand. Between her fingers appeared a metal quill with sharp tip. Her hand rose in the direction of the path she came from**, **and the air started to smell from ozone.

"What is the most beautiful thing in the world?" She shouted, looking at the unmoving forest, Melleth looking from behind her shoulder, not making any sounds, terrified.

"Bed, warm food, and good Southern beer!" The male's voice shouted back.

"I need to ask for another password next time," She said, lowering her hand, but the bullet- shaped projectile did not disappear from between her fingers**,** and her eyes did not change as their cold expression locked on the dark silhouette walking in the shadows thrown by the hunched trees. As the man's face came into the light, the Number One relaxed and she yelled with unhidden joy," Kyndal!"

The man walked closer and they both grabbed their forearms hard.

" Amyna, I am so happy the destiny let us meet together again," Kyndal said, smiling. He was a tall man, at least two heads higher than Amyna. He wore the same kind of armour on himself and had goggles hanging from his neck on the brown strap. A short brown beard complemented his light-featured face, nut-brown eyes and ear-long black hair," Would you mind introducing me to your new partner?" He asked gently, with a kind smile on his face**,** releasing the woman's hand.

"Melleth, it's all right, you can show yourself," She said gently, looking at her shoulder.

Slowly a yellow nose appeared**,** and the small head followed, keeping close to the neck, looking into stranger's eyes and twitching the nostrils.

"Greetings, Melleth. May you always be protected against harm," Kyndal bowed his head and took off the glove from his right hand. He placed his hand in front of the dragon and waited. Melleth sniffed a few times and extended his neck, clutching the Amyna's shoulder with his front claws. The small dragon sniffed the hand again, coming closer to it. Without a warning,his jaws closed on the palm.

Amyna gasped and already moved to stop the disobedient beast, however, she was stopped by the raised hand of Kyndal, who looked curiously into the dragons slitted eyes, the calm expression not leaving him even for a moment.

Melleth strengthened the pressure, but he started feeling afraid. His teeth could not penetrate the skin,and he could not understand why. In addition, this human's eyes had something in them making his anger fade away.

The dragon released the hand and chirped quietly. After a moment of hesitation**,** Melleth put his muzzle on the man's hand. He huffed and**,** with swift motion**,** hid behind Amyna's back again.

"Let's sit**,**" Kyndal gestured the bench on the right side. They sat,and he looked at the woman next to him for a moment in quiet," You aged beautifully," He finally said.

"Shouldn't you say that I look as young as always?" Amyna queried with a small smile.

"If I wouldn't know that you despise cheap flattery, I would've said that," He said, putting his hands together," You've become Number One for this mission and you were able to receive a companion, you are no longer that rebellious girl I used to know"

"And you are not that crazy youngling ready to show off in front of every girl... I've heard you got married**.** I see your wife did a good job training you to be more obedient," Amyna said, smiling and running her fingers on the dragon's head**;** he was now lying on her shoulder and looking ahead without any interest.

"You got that right," The tall man spoke, sounding partially amused," We are expecting our second child now... that recon mission is extremely tedious, but is letting me have a lot more time for me and my family than before."

"I am happy for you..." Amyna said, sounding a bit sad and nostalgic. Her friend looked at her face, not saying anything. He knew what had happened to her family**,** and he was not going to continue this topic any further.

"Let's move to the official part,then," He said, letting a tired sounding breath out," My superiors are interested why your people losses are so big? They are especially interested how around thirty trained soldiers could die in less than a week without engaging in a battle? I would like to hear the explanation from you, please," He looked deeply into Amyna's eyes after speaking. He did not sound stern or threatening. It **wa**s still the same calm tone he used before.

"They tried to touch me in a way I did not approve," The woman answered plainly, looking ahead.

"I understand... a bad case of dysentery, it happens often when people tend to stick their hands where they shouldn't," Kyndal spoke in a serious tone.

Amyna answered with a benevolent smile and nod

He continued," Next matter: concerning soldier losses in battle. The amount is very high**,** considering the fact that you are taking active part in it. Are there any additional problems you have encountered?"

"None, Kyndal...I want those people to have a chance to fight one last time before I will take them away, it seems extremely important to Vikings to die in battle," The white-headed woman said, taking the dragon from her shoulder to her lap, then she looked at her friend," I know that what I am saying would earn me a field court martial and possibly stripped from rank, public lashing and they would take away my companion, in the best case. I already had a few very convincing stories ready for the person that would ask me this. I am happy that it is you,this time. I know that you understand, of all the people you should understand it the best," Her otherworldly blue eyes kept looking into Kyndal's eyes.

The man did not answer, the leather glove held between his hands sounded with the material being squeezed as he pondered over the situation. Amyna hated her crew, and all for a very good reason. They were what she called _the empties_. For her, those people did not have any soul, morality or a shard of dignity and honour. They obeyed orders only out of fear of the consequences.

Also, the reason why Headquarters decided to use such type of people and no other was similar. They were easily disposable and the truth was that none of them would see the Mainland again. They would be sent on missions over and over again until they died in battle. They all escaped the immediate death penalty for a price,but they still eventually had to pay it.

Amyna's past also was a heavy burden for a Number One for this mission. There were a few things Kyndal had learned during his life**,** and one of them was that what shapes humans the most is their past**,** and eventually there always be a situation when the events that were meant to fade away in the void of oblivion would catch up to you again. Discretely**,** he looked at the woman's head. Beneath the short hair he saw silverfish lines of old scars. They were omnipresent, even though they were almost unnoticeable through the hair's whiteness, but he knew where each one of them was located personally.

He had not been there when it occurred, occupied with another assignment. He remembered very well a friend's pale face grabbing him, dressed in suit for a diplomatic meeting, by the shoulder and looking on him without saying a word.

He knew what had happened before he heard the words or when the redness concealed the world from him. He used all his contacts to put him on sudden leave due to some illness and a few more high deputies to permit him to air travel.

He found her in a simple medical tent, tussling with ropes attaching her to the bed**, **her mouth gagged with bandage piece.

The nurse who had done it escaped only with a broken jaw, if she would have been a men, Kyndal would have killed him.

Amyna recognised him immediately, even in his ragged**,** sweat-stained suit. After he untied her**,** she hit him as strong as she could. He took this one and every following punch without even trying to defend himself.

After the injured woman did not have strength to lift her hand, she cried, cursing him for not being here, cursing the world and everything in it, telling him that she wished he would just die.

At those words, he took out his sword and kneeled, offering the weapon to her. If at that moment, she would have decided to take the blade he would have been more than happy to die by her hand. He had failed as a field-brother, he truly desired for Amyna, half-sitting with her head and chest covered in blood soaked bandages, to end his life. He would not have to look at it**,** then.

It was such an easy way out. Amyna looked at the orange thermoblade and then started sobbing in a simple, uncontrollable way. He felt repulsion towards himself, how could he have wanted to leave this woman alone? He vowed to always look after her, never to let her suffer again.

After she managed to sleep, he listened carefully to one of the villagers from where Amyna lived describe what had happened. There had been a large group of them, and they came at night, killing and murdering. Amyna had managed to fight back, killing alone more than ten of them, but she did not stand a chance. She was not a User back then.

Her family died in a way that still gave him nightmares. There was also one woman among the raiders**, **and she did not like Amyna's beautiful long black hair. So she removed it. Using a quite dull knife**,** and not carrying if she was cutting the hair or the scalp. She also cut off Amyna's breasts, 'so she would never be able to feed babies again because she was an imperialistic whore'.

Amyna never wore anything with cleavage**,** even after she managed to recover. Never.

He closed his eyes, calming himself.

"Amazing people**,** aren't they? Those Vikings," He finally spoke.

"I think so as well, Vikings here are so much different from those I learned about**,** who raided people and used them as slaves. These Vikings seem to lead a simple life full of respect and honour," Amyna answered, stroking Melleth's neck's side lazily," What are you going to do,now?" She questioned, her facial features hardening and holding the dragon a bit tighter.

Kyndal smirked, it was an easy question. He promised to protect her and even**,** if she would have wished to blow up this entire archipelago into nothingness, he would have helped. There were more important things than ranks and orders on the formal-looking papers with waxed seals. Luckily for him, there were people out there that understood this as well.

"Nothing, Amyna," He spoke, smiling friendly. The woman relaxed, Melleth looked up at her face, trying to understand his human's behaviour.

"Thank you," She said**,** and before Kyndal was able to say anything**,** she leaned forward and hugged him tightly. Kyndal's resolve burned brighter as he felt his battle-sister lean against him, strong hands on his back. He was always following orders and believed strongly in the rightfulness of Empire's actions, but it was all nothing compared to the feelings he had for the woman who held him tightly. He did not return the embrace, feeling that if he did**, **he would never let her go.

"I need to go," He said with difficulty.

Amyna slowly, almost reluctantly,removed her hands from his back.

Kyndal stood up**,** and the white-haired woman followed, holding the dragon in her arms. The man looked at the creature, the little dragon who kept the shreds of the human holding him intact**, **and who gave so much happiness to her wounded soul. He could not help just to feel grateful.

With a fast movement**,** he knelt and drew a rune in the sand and**,** with hands apart,he bent his head down.

"May your spirit always be at peace," He said**,** and looked back in the dragon's eyes.

"No need to get so formal,Fire Dancer, you might hurt your old knee accidently," Amyna said in a teasing tone.

"I apologise**,** Madam. I promise I won't indulge myself in such dangerous activities anymore," Kyndal spoke, getting up," Would you like to talk to Galeo? I am sure he would like to talk to you."

"But I did," Amyna said grinning," We talked through our whole conversation, he kept me entertained with a story how you lost half of your money gambling in some roadside inn. If he wouldn't threaten you that you would walk your way to the capitol**,** you would have been there to this day."

"Oh, that sneaky**, **scale-rotten flying cow! I will make sure to tell him a few things about gossping behind my back," The armoured man said with a small chuckle. He breathed out, letting his smile drop, touching the goggles' brown strap," You know about the Rebel alert for the lower User's ranks?" He asked casually.

"Of course I know, I read reports. An assassin group or Rebel User. Advised extreme caution. Activation allowed to Level Five, further activation only in life threatening situations," She recited with ease, " Did I pass, _Lifdagarkennarar _Kyndal_?" _

"You are making me feel old," He said with pretended annoyance, turning back to the forest line. Taking one last look at Amyna, letting his eyes absorb her image, burning it permanently in his memory," May you be protected from all harm, White Swan," He bowed, chivalrously putting a hand on his chest and crossing his legs in a bow. Amyna laughed freely at this performance. They laughed as younglings together from such savoir-faire created for the 'upper class'.

She watched him going away, feeling as though she would never see him again. After he was gone**,** she still watched the path he had used, watching the shadows dancing on the sandy road as tree branches moved.

She was interrupted by Melleth's quiet whimper and saw his small head in her breastless chest, looking at her with worry. She lifted him up and swirled in place, laughing and looking at her dragon. She stopped, still with bright smile.

"I still need to wash you," Amyna said cheerfully.

Melleth's body became limp**,** but he only allowed himself to utter an exasperated sigh.

* * *

**_Silly story time._**

An item of absolute power in this student's house was missing. The person wielding it was scratching his hair in a majestic gesture , not letting the item go from his hand even for a second.

The Wielder of the Item of Absolute Power took a handful of his kingly meal in the form of salted popcorn and munched it loudly, letting his minions know who had the power in this house.

His current minion was trying to get the king's attention by transforming into a yellow kayak. The king was still masticating his meal and used the REMOTE CONTROL, a symbol of absolute power and (remote) control, to change to yet another brain-washing channel picturing yet another dating or reality show or, gods forbid, "The Shop with Braedan" show.

Samson now changed from a kayak into a pair of old leather boots. He had been changing for the previous half an hour just to annoy the human, his flatmate.

Samson was a changling Night Fury and, using Dragon Magic (TM), he could take almost any shape he wanted. He even had tried to change into a very attractive, by human standards, woman without any clothes on.

Sadly, the human did not react at all.

Samson was about to change into a window pane when somebody rung the doorbell. He changed into his dragon form, startled. Then he remembered that he had ordered a book called _Hundreds Ways to Cook Fish for Dragons_ using the Magical Post Service. The truth was he just wanted to impress one dragoness he had met at one of his Dragon Sociology classes. (He was a student at nearby university) Showing off with his cooking skills seems like a good way to start a relationship.

He trotted to the door, shouting," I'm coming!"

He changed into his human form, an average looking seventeen years old male iwearing a red woollen sweater, dark trousers and shoes and black rimmed glasses.

He opened the door and did not see anyone for a moment.

"Um, Sir?" A male's voice made him look down and see a scrawny auburn haired teen in a brown shirt with big _**MPS**_ letters on it.

"Ah, sorry I did not see you there!" Samson said apologetically.

"I wonder why?" An amused voice resounded.

Samson looked at the source of the voice: a Night Fury that had made itself comfortable and was scratching his neck, a smirk on his face.

"Shut up!" The delivery person barked back at his dragon," S-sorry for my dragon, he got sterilised yesterday and he has his mood swings and such," he said with a benevolent smile.

Samson did not know what to say, noticing only that the scratching Fury's eyes narrowed.

"The package?" Samson hinted subtly, trying not to notice the terse atmosphere between those two.

"Ah yes, here you are, Sir," The delivery boy said, taking out a white package from his post bag. He then took out a form and a pen," Please just sign here... and here... and here... and on the other side."

"My butt doesn't hurt anymore after last night," The Night Fury said with a smile.

Samson stopped writing, looking at the delivery boy with eyes wide open.

The delivery boy chuckled nervously," J-just a moment, please."

He then turned suddenly to the smiling dragon, completely forgetting Samson, who stood there with the pen in his hand, not moving.

"Hips, Toothless! And I have no idea why you let Sparkletta play with you that way!" The scrawny boy shouted at the dragon.

"Oh, but you said you didn't want me to call it the hip area!" Toothless roared back, and then thought for a moment," But, thanks to your amazing hands, my butt does not hurt anymore. The way your hands moved on it certainly helped!"

Samson dropped both his pen and his jaw.

"Stop making these ridiculous insinuations!" Hiccup snarled and turned back the shocked college student," He's just joking! It really was just an innocent massage!" He said desperately.

Samson did not count massaging someone's back end as innocent. He took a carefully measured step back.

" But it felt sooo good," Toothless said, closing his eyes with an expression of pleasurable reminiscence," And those scratches on my hide do not itch anymore!" He stated cheerfully.

"Just-just... forget it!" The delivery boy yelled and turned back to a shocked Samson who now was trying to hide his front and, after a moment endangered back, areas. He took another step back.

"Just one last signature, please," The small MPS delivery person said, picking up the pen from the ground.

Samson carefully took it, looking at the human's hands the whole time , and left a signature on the last blank field.

"Thank you," The delivery boy and reached his hand out toward Samson.

Samson hissed like a cat. He did not want to be raped! He had watched in the news how many times how young male teens had been victims of some serial dragon rapist or other. He did not want to end up like that! He was still a virgin!

"I really am not into these things! I'm young and innocent... and I pay my taxes!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, slamming the door shut.

Hiccup stood still for a moment, not moving.

"You know what, Toothless?" He said after some time," I'm too tired to even be mad at you."

He started laughing, first quietly and then louder, like a madman.

Toothless was again scratching his neck, purring in content. Hiccup soon stopped laughing and after a sigh he asked," So who's next?"

"Mr. Harry P. He asked for a new broom. He must be a cleaner, and you know how expensive those brushes are these days!" Toothless spoke emotionlessly, completely unperturbed by his friend's behaviour.

" I was just dying to know that...," Hiccup said, feeling exhausted already," Let's go and, this time, can you please try not to talk about your butt for a second?" he added.

"Didn't you mean my hip area?" Toothless asked mockingly.

"SHUT UP!"

* * *

**AN: **I like longer chapters. Shorter are just... not satisfying. You get into the mood, and then suddenly CUT, see you next week.

Who thinks that there is something seriously wrong with the world in this story, raise your hand, or are not accepted.

As usual, reviews are welcome, and don't forget to read **Fjord Mustang's** stories.


	18. Mind Games

AN: Yes, I did not upload for a quite long time. A bit longer chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

"Oy fatso! Some weirdo's lookin' for you!" Gutspasm shouted into the depths of the house and continued staring at Hiccup, with a look absolutely washed out from any respect, looking at the scrawny boy as if he were some exotic worm exhibit.

Gutspasm was Fishleg's older brother. He was smaller than his younger sibling, and just a bit less vast. Irregular blond bristle marked his face, concentrating mainly on his chin. Hiccup could not stop looking at the scarce, especially long and curled facial hair. He had light brown eyes and two muscular arms, crossed in front of him. He kept staring at the smaller boy in front of him, his blue tunic covered with wood-dust and emanating a strong smell of resin.

The Ingermans' house was in reality one giant workshop. The place where Hiccup now stood, was in reality just an added construction to the main hall, where the ships were assembled and constructed. Hiccup could hear from the doorway the sounds of sawing and hammer working. He also could see a lavishly decorated corridor with stairs leading to the left and climbing up to the first floor. On the walls hung various shields and numbers of weapons that could shame Gobber's forgery even at its best.

The Ingermans were rich. Probably even more than the Haddocks. Money did not mean much in the village since you could get most items for free or by bartering. However, when it involved merchants from the outside, it was a different matter. Ship was quite an expensive business and it happened that the Ingermans built the best vessels in the area and some people even travelled fair distances just to place their order and wait a few months for it.

Fishleg's brother continued his staring in silence, completely unflurried by the fact that he called his own brother 'fatso' and Hiccup 'weirdo'. Weirdo did not feel angry for being called that. In fact, weirdo felt excellent himself and no name-calling or probably anything at all would ruin his wonderful mood now.

"So you've defeated a dragon?" Gutspasm threw out suddenly, not changing his position or eye expression.

"Yeah..." Hiccup answered negligently, returning the stare with occasional nose-sniffing.

"Riight," The bulky Viking said, expressing fully his opinion and interest about the matter, again, standing still.

The pleasant silence continued. Hiccup started humming quietly, having his mind filled with the thoughts of Toothless: he could still feel the warmness on his back and the subtle smell of the dragon's skin. The pleasant memory dispersed as heavy thuds sounded and Fishlegs ran from the stairs. Without a word Gutspasm left into the house, most probably leaving to his duties, not even looking at his brother.

"Hiccup!" Fishlegs shouted excitedly. The scrawny teen smiled brightly; he was really happy to see his friend.

"Hello, Fishlegs! I know it is sudden, but can I talk with you, please?" Hiccup said smoothly, looking into the sturdy boy's eyes.

"O-of course!" The blonde teen answered, making room for his guest to come in. They entered and went up the stairs. There, the scenery changed completely. All the shields and weapons disappeared. Walls were carpeted with dragons sculpted in wooden frames. There were all the kinds you could currently meet around Berk, but there were also ones that were long gone, like the Timberjacks, Whispering Deaths or Scauldrons. Many of them Hiccup did not recognise, not even remotely: those were not in the Viking Dragon Book. Before the boy was able to say how amazing it was and ask if Fishlegs had sculpted them himself, he heard the usually shy voice of his companion.

"Has something happened?" He asked with pure curiosity. Hiccup's lip curled upwards in a smile; it was the part of Fishlegs character he liked the most. The taller boy was always direct and did not bother to think before speaking. He also never lied. It added a sense of purity to him; but that was so many years ago... some things must have changed.

"I guess something has," Hiccup said, looking at the teen next to him as they walked through the corridor," "Why do you ask?"

"You just look... better I think," Fishlegs said nasally.

"It must be my Vikingness finally showing through," The scrawny boy joked, showing his horse teeth.

"No... It's like... you are happy again," The bulky teen spoke timidly, making Hiccup's smile vanish.

_Again... I didn't know anyone besides Gobber would bother noticing things like that_, the smaller boy mused.

"This is my room," Fishlegs said opening the wooden door. The smell of wood dust and resin was exchanged by the equally strong smell of parchments and dust. Hiccup gasped, seeing the bookshelves filling the room, at least five times bigger than his own, all filled with books and scrolls.

"Come, I want to show you something," Fishlegs said excitedly, grabbing Hiccup by his sleeve and guiding him to the only, but enormous window in front of them. The window was veiled with very thin animal leather, letting a lot of light in, while also stopping the wind.

On the desk were opened books of various sizes and made not only from vellum but also from paper or parchment made from cotton. Some other materials Hiccup could not recognise. There were even a few stone tablets and an object like a metal rod, filled with small blocks resembling letters.

"That's amazing," Hiccup breathed out, smiling widely and looking around, trying to absorb everything his gaze dropped upon. There were more books than anywhere in Berk; even law-speakers only had a few books, at most. It was impossible for Hiccup to imagine the amount of knowledge present in that room. Fishlegs, smiling, pointed his finger to the ceiling.

Hiccup gasped again. From the ceiling, on long cords, hung uncountable numbers of dragons. Their shapes were carved in wood, their figures slowly moving in the stagnant air. The sepia haired boy watched the ring of dragon silhouettes in awe. He noticed Fishlegs looking at him with a contented smile, enjoying his friend's reaction.

"I-I don't know what to say," Hiccup finally managed to cough out, "Did you make all of them yourself?"

"Yep," The bulky boy agreed simply, also looking up.

"What is that red cord in the centre?" Hiccup asked, pointing.

Fishlegs looked at it with shining eyes, "This one is for the Night Fury! Nobody knows how it looks for now, but I am sure it is something big! At least three times as big as a Nightmare! Or a Timberjack!" He said, widening his hands as if showing how big a fish he had caught.

Hiccup smirked looking at the empty place, "Something tells me that it is a bit smaller."

"You think so?" The tall teen asked in an interested voice.

"Yes...No matter what size it is, I am sure it is awesome," the scrawny boy said confidently.

"Yeah!" Fishlegs exclaimed excitedly and pointed at the figures" I know it is nothing special, it never would be. My hands are too big for such detailed work and I don't have a good eye for details anyway!," he said cheerfully.

Hiccup looked at his host for a moment, searching for any signs of diffidence or sadness in his friend's face or voice, but there were none. Fishlegs merely said how he felt, and just like before, he never made a big deal of anything. He was simply being humble about himself. This always made people sense how good he felt about whom he was.

That was probably the reason why he acted so naturally with Hiccup, even after all those years. There was no bitterness or any other ill feeling that the bony youth could detect. It all felt natural, as two friends just meeting in the morning after the night's sleep.

"I am sure you are good with bigger things," Hiccup said, turning his head away from the figures and towards Fishlegs, who sat on his desk and started rolling a rune-filled metal rod between his fingers.

Hiccup bit his lip; it was apparently so easy for the teen in front of him to accept what had happened. Their friendship ending without a real cause. However, consenting to the things as they were never had been Hiccup's forte. He wanted to clear the atmosphere, even if only for himself.

"You want to look at-," Fishlegs started, leaning to take another book from the pile.

"I'm sorry," Hiccup said loudly. If not for Toothless, he would not have the courage to tell this, or the words that followed. Fishlegs' massive palm stopped above the book, "I'm sorry for not talking to you or coming here for so long. I know it must have been hard for you and for this, I apologise. It was hard for me to talk to anyone then, but I want you to know that I never forgot about you," The scrawny teen said that naturally, without any self-pity or pretended strength in his voice.

At first, Fishlegs did not answer. He took the book and moved his fingers across the cover. Hiccup could have sworn that he had seen a shadow move across his face if only for a moment. His face then brightened with a honest smile, "Thank you for saying that," he said and put the book back on the table," "What can I do for you?"

Hiccup contemplated what a fool he was to believe that this had been easy for Fishlegs; they all had sensibilities and the scrawny teen sometimes had to remind himself that others could have normal feelings as well, even with all the bloodshed and tragedy around. Most of them.

"I have something that might interest you," Hiccup said, taking out rolled scrolls of vellum from beneath his vest. He unfolded them and put them on the table.

"What's that?" Fishlegs asked, looking at the rolls from above.

"This is what I would like you to help me with... I think it is some sort of writing," The skinny youth spoke, scratching his head.

Fishlegs grimaced, taking the vellums from Hiccup's palm," I'm not so good with translations... I can't even say I know any foreign language fluently," he said evenly.

The scrawny youth thought for a moment," Then how about if I tell you that this is something related to dragons?" he asked, hoping to liven his friend.

Effect was immediate," Really?" Fishlegs gasped and looked at the drawings with much more interest.

"Yes, I swear on my clan colours," Hiccup said, grabbing his green tunic with his hand.

Only most prominent clans had colours they were using to be distinguished from the others. Haddock's clan colour was green, always present in Hiccup's or his father's clothing, Jorgenson clan had redness, Ingerman brown and Elder's clan, grey.

The boy thought about these symbols and the dragon who had written them. It felt natural for him to try to know more about Toothless. The Fury had not always been present around Berk. It was said that he had appeared for the first time around twenty five years ago. Was there a reason for that? Considering Toothless' intelligence...

Hiccup felt a very strong desire to know more about the injured beast. He took a last glance at the dragon figures floating in the air hanging by the red cord; as red as blood.

"Fishlegs, why do you want to fight dragons?" The scrawny teen asked before constricting himself for saying it. Yet, it did not feel wrong to ask that. Not with Fishlegs.

"Why?" the blonde boy mused, looking at the dragon models, "I have never really thought about it... I certainly would like to know more about them, but just know. Dragons are dangerous, and only thanks to our warriors do we still exist," He looked with serious eyes at Hiccup, "I have to follow this heritage, because I want to be ready for what... surely will come in the future," He said in a disappointed tone; after taking a deep breath he continued, "I used to imagine as a child how touching a dragon would feel like. A live dragon. But I can't live with fantasies or help the others that way... I think... I think that's why I want to fight dragons," He finished, looking embarrassed of what he had just said.

Hiccup looked at the cord, feeling his heart being pulled down by the undeniable realism and truthfulness of these words. Fishlegs was usually talking nonsense, things nobody found interesting aside from him. It turned out there was another part in his personality, one he did not show often.

"You're right... you're absolutely right," Hiccup said with difficulty, swiping through his hair with his hand.

Some things just change with time.

"And you?" Fishlegs asked suddenly, turning his head to Hiccup.

"Because I want to please my father I guess...," He answered with as much honesty as he could. He still wanted to please his father - even if he did not want to fight dragons anymore.

"I see," Fishlegs muttered, and took another book from the heap.

"I need to go, do some things," Hiccup hinted, turning to the exit.

"Sure! I will tell you if I find anything!" Fishlegs said with his usual smile. The scrawny teen walked, but he felt a question burn him from the inside, one he had to ask.

"Fishlegs," he said naturally, twisting in the spot to face his friend, "What if...what if the war was over and there would be a way to befriend dragons?"

The large teen's jaw dropped and he looked at Hiccup for a moment in silence, ""I would just love that!" He beamed.

"I see," Hiccup muttered with a rising smile, "See you on the Hill!"

* * *

Fishlegs took a small, wooden chair, placed it carefully in front of his table and sat. He did not glance at the drawings Hiccup had brought, but looked up. His heart beat faster and he felt excited like a small child again.

Hiccup had that look in his eyes, the one that made you think everything is possible. For a moment, Fishlegs believed these words. For a moment, he believed that the war could end and that they could befriend dragons. It was such a wonderful feeling.

He looked up at the dragons above him and raised his hand. He glanced at it and swayed it through the space.

"Pfshhhhh," he emitted, trying to imitate the sound a flying dragon makes, glorious and noble in the sky. He ceased it after a moment though, and his hand slowly dropped to the desk. Such a beautiful feeling...

Pity it had to end. A truly regrettable pity.

A small smile still lingering on his face, he went back to browsing through the books.

* * *

Hiccup went to the tanner's before heading to the training place and bought a few black-coloured cattle leather. He did not worry about his transaction being exposed. It was normal for him to buy some leather, most often dragon's, but he used to order other types as well.

Berk did not have any cows for the same reason that there were no horses or ox. Smaller animals could be lifted easier and you could actually run with them while having one hand ready to grab your belongings ...or a weapon. The bigger, the better.

The village financial status was more than decent; its inhabitants could therefore afford to buy food, grain or any commodities from the traders. That was why quite a few merchants were circling in the area. Berk had been at war for a long time, war always cost money and always attracts people hungry for money, namely merchants.

Hiccup besides having access to the Chieftain family's small fortune, had money of his own. As a blacksmith apprentice, his wares occasionally caught the eye of a merchant, and if sold, he received his share from Gobber. The boy rarely used the money; however now, there was a good reason to put it to a use.

He went back home, ate a light meal, and prepared himself for the training.

This time he put on leather graves and bracers and took his training bow, together with shoulder and palm protectors, hoping that Gobber would allow him to train with them. The bow was a simple two elbow and ten nails long made from single piece of oak wood. He had built a contraption to help him string the bow. He put the weapon in the holder and from the above there was a simple wooden box which was able to move up and down thanks to the rail mounted to the wall. The bow was placed beneath it and Hiccup was putting heavy items in the crate. Couple axes later the bow was curving because of the weight placed on it, enabling the boy to string it.

Hiccup might not have been the best example of Viking, but he loved putting the training equipment on. The smell of the worn-out leather, feeling the protectors securely tangled on his body, always had a reassuring feel to them.

It always made Hiccup's mind click to what he called 'training-mode'. It was as if he was stronger, better, with the wooden feel of his trusted bow in his palm. He tried never to neglect his training, always tried to spend several times a week behind his house, just shooting arrow after arrow into the wooden boards. It was like drawing, or watching metal shape under his hammer. It enabled him to clear his mind, to forget his worries and concentrate on himself. Even if his muscles ached and he had difficulties breathing, it always felt refreshing in the end.

He wore a simple leather quiver, fully packed with arrows, their feathered, grey ends sticking out above Hiccup's left shoulder. Automatically, he checked if all the protectors were secured and with a swift movement of his hand, he checked if he could reach the arrows, his fingers hovering above one of the ailerons. He took a step forward that thudded in his room, lowering his legs and raised his bow, looking forward. He stayed in that position for a moment and then returned to standing still just to repeat the sequence.

Bow hanging across his chest and quiver wobbling on his back, he stepped out from his house, just to start running on the steps and through the village. As a child, he liked to imagine that he was a powerful warrior wearing a mighty armour. Now, he felt energised and did not need to imagine that he was a warrior anymore. He _felt_ like one.

* * *

"Again," Gobber said gently, sitting on the basket and eating chicken stew with a wooden spoon from the small bowl.

The pair of wooden swords whistled through the air again, both making the same movements as if mirrored. The trainee duo took the same breaths. Astrid pirouetted with the weapon, performing a perfect vertical slash. Twisting it through her wrist she then stabbed back, hiding behind her shield, she then rolled on the ground and swung upwards in a movement disappearing the eyes**. **

Snotlout was doing the same sequence next to the girl. With a twirl from their swords in their hands they placed them next to their legs, blades down and shields at chest height.

"Good," The blacksmith simply said and slurped his meal. Astrid, panting, made a step over a wooden axe and hammer lying on the ground, and motioned with her cord-braced hand as if wanting to say something.

Gobber raised his spoon, prejudicing Astrid's words, "I did not finish," he said calmly, "Yer forms ar' very good, there is not much left I can teach ya 'bout weapon fightin'" He pointed his spoon at the heaving blonde girl, "Astrid! Yer for sure th' most skilled trainee in this group and one of th' best I've ever seen, but if I would hav' t' point out that the weapon ya fight th' best with, would of course be the axe. Ya can use all of 'em with proficiency an' it is only yer choice which t' use th' most"

He then turned to Snotlout, who did not look at his wooden sword tip, moving his thumb across its smooth surface, "I can say tha' yer good with axe an' hammer an' I would find a few things t' polish more," The dark-haired boy posture slouched, and his palm grasped the wooden blade harder, "But! Yer th' best when it comes t' swords! Yer family is specialised in sword fightin' if I remember correctly... well, just wanna say, good job, both of you!" His spoon, still holding a piece of meat, rose with his excited gesture. The meat dropped from it suddenly.

"My chicken!" Gobber yelled, diving after his food.

Astrid left, right after the trainer's speech, and Snotlout with a self-confident smile threw the weapon in the air, making it spin. He whirled on the spot and caught the sword behind his back.

The blonde girl took up a bota from beneath the tree, exchanging greetings with Fishlegs, who was half-sitting putting on his leather protectors, his silvery hammer lying next to him.

Gobber finally found the chicken piece in the grass and looking at it inquiringly for a moment, he breathed a few blows at it and ate it," Sand is always addin' somethin' special t' yer food," He pondered, chuckling.

The twins tried to train with their two-edged spears, but as they were exchanging insults every few movements, it was becoming harder for them to continue their training without killing each other.

"Tuffnut!" Gobber shouted, standing up "Swear one more time an' I will tie ya up an' throw you in front of a goat in heat so it can do ya what ya say all the time!"

Ruffnut laughed loudly.

"And ya will join him!" The blacksmith threateningly pointed his arm stump at the snickering girl," Tuffnut... here! Ruffnut... just stay there! Now, practise! Why in the gods' name ya have chosen th' exotic weapons instead of th' most trusted sword or hammers... there is nobody in th' village that knows these weapons an' how to train ya with 'em!" He said in frustration.

"But they are cool!" Tuffnut yelled from his as-far-away-as-possible-from-his-sister assigned position.

"Right," Ruffnut agreed.

Gobber sighed, "Just train! Even tha' I don't know much 'bout those weapons I can tell that yer technique's barely above average! Not even one more word! Start swinging!," He was yelling in an angry voice. The twins cringed and started training. Gobber was rarely angry, but when such situation occurred, you suddenly preferred to be as many islands away as possible, shielded with an army of Vikings, dozens of catapults and an armada of ships.

And a few things more.

His face changed however as he noticed a small figure surfacing from beneath the grass line, running up the steep. Gobber stood up from his sitting place and closed to the approaching Hiccup.

"Hello, Gobber," The boy gasped, breathing deeply, sweat running down his face, "Am I late?"

"Oh, we hav' not started yet, lad, but ther' ar' a few things I would like t' talk t' ye about," Gobber said, taking the youth in a one-handed embrace and walking away with him from the other trainees.

"T-that's great! There are some things I want to talk about as well," Hiccup said, putting the sweat-stuck hair away from his eyebrow.

Gobber glanced at Hiccup's bow, "I think I might know what ya want t' talk about. It happens it is th' same thing I wanted t' discuss. Let's get t' th' point shall we?," he asked and released the boy. They were now a fair distance from the other trainees.

Hiccup opened his mouth to start.

"Yes, the bow is a good choice for ya. It was my mistake to think ya don't know how t' use any weapon, I think th' reflexive laminate would be a best choice for yer build, though," Gobber said quickly and looked expectantly at the surprised boy's face.

"You-you don't have anything against me using a bow?" Hiccup queried, rising his eyebrow.

"Nah, why would I hav' anythin' against it? It's a good weapon in good hands, not so effective against dragons, but better tha' than nothin'!" Gobber said cheerfully.

"Laminate sounds nice, but reflexive bows are expensive and hard to maintain... I don't have one neither, this one," Hiccup touched the tip of his bow," is just a simple oak long bow...50 pounds of power."

"Then why not hav' th' 60 pounds of power, shorter time ya need t' shoot and b' able to run while doin' it?" The blacksmith asked in friendly tone.

"Oh gee, I don't know, maybe because the laminates cost around 20 florens and since bows are not that effective against dragons, there are none on this island, also there is nobody here who would make them?" Hiccup questioned in a jeering tone.

"Yes! That's right Hiccup! Besides that, I want t' ask ya another thing... is there any other weapon ya can use as efficiently as a bow? I don't want t', ya know, be surprised again like that, it just makes me wonder why would such an intelligent person like ya hide it from everybody?" Gobber took a more pensive expression with his hand on his chin, "Oh gee, I don't know, maybe because ya thought tha' nobody would care about it? Tha' it would not matter?"

Hiccup bit his lip and avoided Gobber's drilling gaze, "Sorry...," he said quietly, after a moment of silence.

"No problem, lad," The massive Viking answered nonchalantly, "Now! Can ya tell me if there is anything ya can do? Anything else tha' would help in battle?" He looked with curiosity at Hiccup.

The boy suddenly seemed to be very interested in the pattern the dirt was creating on his boots," I-I just know how to fire a bow," He took a breath, "And lay waste to whatever I think, but I have a feeling that is not counted as a battle skill ," he said, his very bitter tone not fully hidden by his sarcasm.

"It is hard for me t' believe tha' is th' only thing ya know, there must b' something else!" Gobber said encouragingly.

Hiccup felt an irritation suddenly explode in his heart; he did not like where this conversation was going. He felt judged and as natural as it was to be asked such things, he knew that he would never know enough. His positive energy vanished, replaced by anger, "I've told you already!" Hiccup said that much louder than he wanted. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He was mad at himself, not at Gobber who calmly stood over him, "I just don't know anything else...," he finished in a quieter tone.

"I see," the blacksmith said pleasantly as if the boy's outburst had never happened, What 'bout books then? Have ya read any war-related ones?" He asked, his posture showing genuine interest.

"Well...yes...," Hiccup agreed carefully, ...why would any Viking ask about books? Most of the villagers did not read unless they absolutely had to, "But what-?"

"What do ya think 'bout th' Yelling Technique?" Gobber chimed in smoothly.

The scrawny youth was caught speechless for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "You mean the one used 150 years ago?" Gobber confirmed with a small nod and Hiccup snorted with condemnation:

" This so called 'technique' nearly killed off most of Berk's warriors at the time. They merely stood in line and, as the name indicated, yelled at the incoming enemy, because," here Hiccup voice became darker and deeper, "everything must be afraid of the fearsome Viking warriors! Our _awesome_ yell just _must_ scare anyone, even dragons! But why did these beasts, instead of flying away, start eating our defenceless soldiers? Could it be that yelling not only did not work, but also made us easier targets? No, it must be because of our bad smell!" The boy caught his mentor's eyes and cleared his throat, "But, I must admit that Scaretooth the Thunder had some... um... very unique ideas."

"I think he was an idiot," Gobber stated evenly.

"W-what?" Hiccup gasped, thinking he must have misheard something.

"He was a moron tha' had th' power thanks only t' his blood, not brain or skills," The blacksmith spoke indifferently, "He was more busy raidin' an' stealin' or havin' exotic women than preparin' th' village for another dragon attack. Good thing tha' Hiccup Haddock II took away his privileges an' let his sister take charge. Scaretooth, feelin' humiliated, tried t' leave th' island at night together with a large part of his money. Fortunately, his boat was struck with lightnin' while escapin'," Gobber lifted his helmet with a finger, correcting his position, "That's why he was renamed th' Thunder. Originally he was known as th' Deadly."

Hiccup reflected for a moment, "I never knew that," he said, surprised; "There was nothing about it in the books."

"Not everything is in th' books, lad," Gobber spoke merrily, "Any thoughts about using th' circular defence?"

"Oh, the one that protected all of the livestock by gathering it in one place and creating a circle around them," The teen stated, his widely gesturing hands betraying his excitement, "Well the concept was all right, if you do not count making the rest of the Village practically defenceless, but-."

* * *

Astrid looked at Hiccup. He was moving his hands with his own clumsy movements, looking fully absorbed in the conversation with Gobber, his green eyes shining lively and with an intelligence she had never noticed before. She positioned herself with her axe held in two hands to train swings, when the unfamiliar sounds stopped her. Her eyes ran to the place from where it was coming from, to spot the laughing Hiccup. _Laughing_? He never laughed. He smirked or chuckled nervously, but most of the time he had this sad expression almost always present on his face. For a short moment beneath that yew tree, she saw the other him.

She always thought that he was just a very original case of a village clown who could not do anything right. She still thought that she was right. However, something had changed, probably, in him. At this point, she did not know anymore what to expect from that bony boy, who even as small as he was, was able to defend himself and show some qualities she only reserved for warriors.

Hiccup laughed again with a free, pearly laugh. Astrid unwillingly flicked her head. She liked these merry eyes and this brightened face, so different from the one he had after fight with Snotlout. The guilt she had felt afterwards eased a bit. He must be better since he was laughing like that. She wanted to apologise to him, but every time something crossed her path.

What had changed in Hiccup exactly? To think that he had managed to defeat that dragon without even touching it!

Anger rushed over her and her face distorted uglily. She should have been the one to win this. She was training so hard to win the whole training. He had done it with such an ease, one she did not possess. She quickly calmed herself. There was no need to panic. Yet was not the part when they were selected by the Elder. Next time she would be the one to defeat the dragon for sure. It must have been a coincidence… because if not... She looked at the smiling Hiccup drawing something in the ground, that seemed to be lines, with an arrow tip.

She had discarded as a loser, only because he seemed to be one, a very unusual, gifted and surprising boy.

_With a cute smile_, she reasoned.

She closed her eyes, grimacing strongly. Training was the only thing she needed. Soon axe swings scattered away all thoughts.

* * *

"- and that's how I would've done the deceiving retreat manoeuvre with cover from the archers. Hills would've been a good place for them and the short bushes would've been a good hiding place," Hiccup said, pointing with his arrow to the drawn map with Xs and arrows all over it.

Gobber had a smile plastered to his face, "And ya have never read 'bout such situation before, but came up with tha' solution now?," he asked, folding his moustache around his finger.

"Well, yes," Hiccup said quickly, his eyes still studying the diagram he had created, "The unit was ambushed and it would've been a tough fight with so many enemies coming at them. There would have been heavy losses," his eyebrows furrowed.

_There were heavy losses_, Gobber thought. He had started with easy questions and moved on to the more complicated ones. The blacksmith wanted to see if Hiccup was capable of tactical thinking and under the informal conversation he just tested this ability, just to be absolutely sure of it. Gobber would never have expected such excellent results.

The situation he gave the boy to analyse really happened, twenty one years ago at one of the nearby islands when they fought one of the last battles for domination with the surrounding tribes. They had separated into two groups, one following the other. First one was meant to draw most of the enemy force to them and keep them in one place while the other group would flank them from both sides. The main unit would make it look like they were retreating, only to give space for the archers to shoot freely.

It took a week for Stoick, Spitelout and himself to come up with this plan and Hiccup created an almost identical one right on the spot.

"Well then, lad. We still do not know what t' do with yer bow!" Gobber said in a friendly tone.

The teen almost jumped, "R-right! I almost forgot about it. But I really... um, can't fight with anything else!" he said desperately.

Gobber smiled impishly.

"I don't like it when you're smiling in a way that instead of brightening my day is making me feel like running away," Hiccup said dryly.

Gobber merely chuckled throatily, "I just happen t' hav' th' answer t' all yer problems!" he exclaimed, taking the boy into a grip again, and started walking to the training grounds, "Girlfriend problems included!" he added after a moment of thought.

"You're so kind...," Hiccup stated, sounding emotionless.

"Speak before ya meet yer new girlfriend!" His excited voice made the boy shiver. He already saw Gobber introducing him to some girls or women, in the very desperate hope he would catch an interest of one. He also pictured inwardly his being rejected by all the candidates and his teacher sighing and saying "Well, we still have some single goats, I am sure ya will like one, Hiccup! Once ya get used t' eating the grass it's a paradise!"

"I think that you should reconsider what you're about to do!" Hiccup said, trying to lift the massive hand from his shoulders.

"Nonsense!" Gobber said airily, pretending not to notice the boy's attempts at escaping," Ya will see what beauty she is! I am sure she will like yer touch!"

"Let's not move so bluntly forward shall we?" Hiccup breathed out hastily, "I should probably go... yes, go and practice, run laps with rocks on my back, do some push ups," he looked expectantly at Gobber, who started humming a tuneless melody, "Did I tell you how much I love push ups? I want to do them right now! Yes! I have a sudden and inexplicable urge to do as many push ups as possible!"

"Her' we are!" The blacksmith said, stopping in front of his giant weapon-and-junk-filled basket. Hiccup closed and opened his eyes slowly. There was nobody there, only other trainees practising nearby.

"So...," Hiccup said in the sudden silence, "Where is she?" he asked, resigning himself to the inevitable.

"Just a mo'!" Gobber opened the basket and plunged his hand into its bellows. With a triumphant grin, he took out a leathered package and chucked it to Hiccup. The youth grabbed it clumsily,

"Oh..., that's... nice. I will make sure she will be good to me," the scrawny boy stated with the usual sarcasm.

"Try unpacking it first," The blacksmith suggested.

Hiccup unfastened the package and took out a gnarled piece of polished wood. This is how it looked to the boy for the first split moment, before he rapidly took the remaining covers away and clutched the wood with both his trembling hands.

"H-how did you get it?" He croaked, licking his suddenly dry lips, forehead sparkling with sweat.

"Oh, ya remember tha' guy who wanted t' swim away without payin'? Well, he did not! And with some accurate threads and a couple of educatin' punches he finally decided t' pay with this!" Gobber said as if describing the weather and Hiccup did not even shrug, his feverish looking eyes lingering on the wood piece.

"L-laminate!" The boy whispered, his fingers rubbing the polished red coloured wood, shining strongly, "Maple and birch wood?" Gobber nodded and the boy covered his mouth, his eyes watery, "It even has metal brackets supporting the bowstring! Oh! And the gold ornaments on the sides! The way the wood layers were glued is masterful! It was varnished so many years ago and it still looks so... awesome!" He sniffed loudly, pressing the double bent bow to his chest, "I-I want it!" he said sternly to Gobber, "I will pay as much as you want! I will give you anything!," he yelled and all the teens turned to him, and then to Gobber. What must their trainer have done to make Hiccup scream like this?

The blacksmith leaned to the boy "I think ya should keep it down a bit... and ya can have it."

Hiccup sniffed louder, his nose running, and lips trembling, "I love you, Gobber," he said and hugged the man.

"All right, I didn't expect _that_!" Tuffnut's voice jeered in sudden silence, stopping this affectionate display of feelings. Hiccup took step away from Gobber and looked at his weapon.

"Anyone laughin' will clean the Mead hall with the wooden spoon!" The blacksmith said threateningly. Everybody went back to weapon training as fast as possible, "All right, lad. Time to train," he said to Hiccup, who was already trying to put the bowstring's metal ring into the bow-arm's tip. He leaned with his body on the bow, trying to curve it, unsuccessfully.

"Let me try," Gobber said, taking the bow in one hand and sat on the basket, placing it between his legs. His hand muscles swelled when his hand pressed the weapon's tip. Slowly it descended and wood creaked quietly, "Hiccup!" The massive Viking huffed keeping the bow in position. The boy took the ring and attached it, "Now, lad, go line up. Ya will practise with it later, I promise," he said to the scrawny teen.

The training began the same way as the previous one. All teens ran across the beautiful meadow, filled with afternoon light, with rock-filled baskets on their back. Same as previously, Hiccup finished as the last one.

Afterwards, they practised fighting with weapons and shield. It was not going as smoothly as before since Gobber had to correct Hiccup's every position and movement. The clumsy boy did not let himself be bothered with the scrutinising glances Snotlout was sending him. He waited for the next part of their training to start. He hoped to be paired with Astrid again. A priceless opportunity to be alone with her. Their last conversation had not ended well, and Hiccup wanted to try and repair the damage done.

His heart fluttered when they ended up in the same pairs as before.

"Hi!" Hiccup gasped, smiling widely. The golden-haired beauty had an impassive face. However, as she spotted the boy's face her lips curled up in a smile as well.

"Hi, let's fight," she said simply and without a warning, she lunged at her sparring partner, who had not foreseen getting beaten up so fast right after the welcoming words.

To the boy's disappointment, they did not talk at all. Astrid attacked; he defended himself, only to always end up on the ground or with the girl's weapon stopping near his body.

"Can we stop for a moment, please?" Hiccup said, breathing heavily.

"Why?" Astrid asked.

"I would like to learn, but it is hard to if I am not told what I am doing wrong... and you did not say anything to me since we started," The scrawny teen spoke as gently as he could trying to hide his disappointment.

Astrid blinked in surprise as if pondering, "You're right, I did not notice this," She looked at the sweating boy and took a breath, "Look... I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Hiccup breathed out; Astrid's eyes widened, "I'm sorry for making you mad for whatever I said in the Ring," he peeked at the girl's face. Was she confused? Mad? Disgusted? Nobody had ever given him a lesson in how to read a girl's face, "-Just wanted to let you know," he added quickly, pretending to be correcting his bracers.

He waited after the words that would sneer at him for showing such weakness or mock him for even bothering to think about that.

"Don't apologise," Astrid's soft voice made him look up at her. She did not seem angry, more like...unhappy? What he had done again? He took a step forward "I am so-!"

"Don't!" the girl said fiercely, flicking her head and looking directly into Hiccup's eyes, "There is nothing to apologise for. Let's train," She said sternly and Hiccup winced in disappointment. Feeling a strong sense of guilt at seeing that, Astrid uttered almost soundlessly: "You should smile more often".

"What?" the boy asked, his eyes shining with hope.

"I said you should keep your shield up unless you want to be an easy target!" she said scornfully.

"S-sorry," Hiccup hastily answered, taking a defensive position.

Astrid eyes narrowed, "What did I say about apologising?"

"Yes, sorry I forgot!" The skinny youth said direly.

Astrid smirked dangerously, "You asked for it!" she howled and jumped forward with her weapon raised high.

* * *

It had a hole in it and it was not going anywhere.

The ebony eyelid opened for the twelth time, looking at the despised thing Scalgertar had left. The eye closed and the Fury rumbled quietly and let out a strong huff, wrinkling his nose.

He had slept so well and felt so content just lying and doing absolutely nothing. He did not want to wake up fully or move because then these unbelievably pleasant feelings, still swirling in his mind, would wear off.

He could still feel the boy's warmness on his side even after the human was gone. He wanted to keep himself as long as possible in this pleasant state. It had been so long ago since he had felt any connection with another being, a relation not based on violence or murderous intentions to kill each other. He was aware that the relation with the human was based on violence and murderous intentions to kill each other in the beginning, however, he tried to elude that fact.

Hiccup's smell was still suspended in the air, the dragon felt as if his skin had already been penetrated by it. This soothing scent became a part of his own, now inseparable, but still distinct.

The pup was so different from him; he did not have a strong, powerful body or a pair of wings. He could not breathe fire, acid or water. He was fragile and small, weak and full of emotions that were contagious. He was infecting his thoughts and feelings. Possessing his will without using force or malicious intentions. He could not feel anything aside from the honest desire to help him.

Toothless opened his eyes and sat on his haunches, unable to stop his thoughts from multiplying, and looked into the sky. A white cloud moved slowly against the cerulean sky, adding a bit of nostalgia to his heart.

He missed the feeling of the air beneath his wings, the moments of feeling free, unbounded by anything or anyone and the peace of solitude that flying offered.

His head lowered and he looked at the skin-smelling thing the human had brought.

However, he was not free or alone anymore.

He was not free, but he did not feel limited. He loved loneliness and yet he did not mind a company now. He had lived for hatred but did not sense it any longer.

His eyes became sad as he realised something.

His heart did not hurt anymore now. He could now think about his family without any pain. The memory was not so incisive, fogged by the human's eyes, smell and feelings. His feelings. When had he started to prioritise Hiccup?

His legs raised slowly as he moved to that leather-thing the human wanted to use to ride him. He looked at the hole inside it and his paw dropped on it.

His body suddenly shivered strongly, his ears dropping and his paw strongly pressing the human's invention.

He was afraid. The fear was so strong he barely controlled himself from running into the wall in an attempt at escaping.

He felt fear of what was going on with him. Everything his life consisted of was gone. Where was his hatred? His mission did not seem as important as before. He seemed more and more... happy and he was captured, imprisoned in this place, befriending the human that almost killed him and getting almost ridden by him like a mindless creature.

He wanted his routines back, his life and days calmly drifting. He wanted them back before he would not be able to leave this place for good, as he grew attached to the human with feelings that did not listen to his will or reason.

This human was poison. A thorn which, once attached, could not be taken away without ripping a piece of flesh with it. He brought only pain to him, and worry. So why was this so pleasurable now? He felt as if he _wanted_ to be in the power of the human. Let his tiny hands touch him and let him look at him with these beautiful green eyes.

He would allow the human to ride him.

A small part of the dragon knew he would reach this decision sooner or later. As if, he never had a choice in the first place. Part of his discretion was stolen, exchanged for bare happiness and the addicting feeling of belonging.

He used to feel this way before, about his sister and sometimes about his brother when the little pup was not trying to bite or flame him. Which did not leave a lot of time to care about him; mostly when he was asleep.

There was one thing about Hiccup he did not realise before. The human's eyes were so similar to his sister's. Almost the same shade of green, glistening beautifully. Doors to the soul, always betraying the feelings and emotions, absolutely captivating.

His paw elevated from the skin-thing and his muzzle dropped, his nose touching the leather.

Why was the change so frightening? If he got attached to somebody again, he would just get hurt in the end. Everybody he ever cared for were gone, chances to save anyone lost.

His head jerked upwards, his eyes feverishly scanning the human device.

Maybe it was another plan from IT to hurt him. Let happiness blind him and he live in his ignorance until the human left him. That must be it! Hiccup would die with him around, just as everybody else did.

The Fury wanted at that moment to feel the familiar buzzing and pressure on his mind and hear the long-not-heard ever-condemning laugh, full of well-deserved superiority. Let it be true! Let it be just another elaborate mind-game! Because in the other way... in the other way he would not have any reason to stop his Athet with the human.

However, he could still go back, he could still vanquish the feelings growing in his heart. He carved for kindness and a gentle touch, he was aware of that. One of the things IT had told him were exactly that. He would always want to search for the thing that would fill the void in his 'self', he would sacrifice everything for that. Ever empty, ever seeking, full of feelings he should not possess.

IT had stated that he was 'activated' prematurely**, **and had commented on how fun it was to watch him try to deal with them. That giant used to assert a lot of things, and have the Fury occasionally visit him so he could have his monologue. On these moments, Toothless would not be in a condition to answer him anyway.

Tentatively, he walked to the tail-fin-thing and grabbed it between his teeth. He returned carrying it to the skin-thing and carefully lay down the tail addition on it.

He would accept the human's gifts, his tokens of honest intentions and undeniable kindness.

Even if he ever looked back at this situation in the future, the Fury would not be sure he ever had any choice at all.

* * *

How does one make you miserable in a few moments, just after you have been finally able to shoot from the bow you really desired? Hiccup knew the answer to this question now: let an old, grim-looking guy gape at you while you shoot and try to enjoy yourself.

_Why, oh Gods why I can't be happy just once in my life?_, he thought in frustration; this repetitive question kept flashing in his mind like a Nightmare's hide in fire.

Sparring with Astrid was much more enjoyable after their little conversation. The tension she seemed to have disappeared, and he could enjoy seeing her victorious smirk whenever he got defeated. Not like he really minded. His white weapon skills were still terrible and he was sure that they would be for at least the next few months. It would be long after the dragon training then, but knowing how to operate another dangerous thing might come in handy someday. The everyday life of a Viking was always multiplying such desirable opportunities to test the sharpness of one's blade.

Another factor strongly influenced the miserable state he particularly suffered.

Each of the trainees, to their surprise, received a 'personal trainer'. A person, whose knowledge, experience and skills would help them use their weapon to their maximum potential. There was one for each of them with the exception of the twins, who currently trained with the only person on the island whose seemingly knew anything about double bladed spears. Hiccup watched, between two shots at a tree trunk. An old-aged Viking with a brown beard tied in one, long curl swung it whistling in the air as the weapon rotated faster than the boy could see. The circles, sudden thrusts and slashes, all of it looked harmoniously connected together. Each movement seamlessly following another, looked beautiful and graceful.

It was still nothing compared to what Snotlout was doing with his sword. His elder-looking teacher smiled and complimented almost everything the ferocious teen had done.

Hiccup never got rid of the small strand of jealousy swelling in his mind, when he watched the dark-haired boy. Whenever he saw Snotlout, a situation from the past always flashed back at his mind.

Four well-grown boys, all beaten up, lying at the feet of the young Snotlout, his nose bleeding, his face signed with bruises and cuts. Hiccup stumbled on this scene by accident when going out from his room, tired of sitting inside it.

Snotlout did not notice him, he wiped the blood from his mouth with a sleeve and sneered, "Who are you calling an idiot now?" The young Hiccup gasped, getting the other boy's attention.

Why I can't be like him? The scrawny boy kept asking himself then. Snotlout had every quality he ever wanted to be a perfect Viking. He was strong, boastful, always confident, always winning whereas he had this useless body , weak and pathetic and a mind that could not concentrate, useless!

He felt so jealous that it almost burned him from the inside. He wanted to badly to be _him_ back then, just feel powerful and confident for once, defeat anyone, never run away in fear.

"What are you looking at, Toothpick?" Snotlout said , his voice full of venom and loathing. Hiccup did the only thing he could, "I will be better than you one day! Just wait and see how better I will be in...," He stopped, his mind going blank when seeing the smirk rise on his cousin's face, "in everything!" Hiccup shouted and stormed away before his red cheeks and watery eyes could betray his feelings.

The arrow whisked through the air and plunked itself into the wood. The bow worked so well it was almost unbelievable for Hiccup to realise how easy it had been for him to adjust to it. He received a new set of arrows from Gobber; another gift which almost made him weep from joy as he had almost never received any presents before.

The 'Awesome Arrow Expectorator' (Hiccup had already named his weapon) required less strength to draw than his faithful training bow and thanks to that, the boy could shoot faster with it.

His dark-bearded trainer, apparently did not find it a courtesy to greet his pupil and did not comment on any of his shots. The only thing he uttered in a grunt was "Start shooting," and his bony finger pointed at one of the trees which was lucky enough to stand in front of the other wooden elements of the forest.

Hiccup's silent companion was nobody else than Jawlock the Watchful, one of the best Berk hunters. These were people leaving on the hunting trips to nearby uninhabited island and brought back as much game as possible. Needless to say, Jawlock was the leader of these expeditions; he also was a village legend when it came to bows.

In normal circumstances, Hiccup would have enjoyed the new opportunity to learn from the best. He never rejected an opportunity to learn anything new.

Near him, Fishlegs swung the biggest hammer Hiccup had ever seen in his life - and he had seen a lot. It was almost as big as the youth and, as its gigantic rectangular head with one teethed side fell down, the gust of wind swooshed the grass tips. Fishlegs face was damp from sweat, veins showed on his powerful arms.

His mentor stood near him with his arms crossed. He was even taller than Fishlegs was and looked like a gigantic pump of muscles. The full effect was accomplished with him being as bald as a knee and wearing a small earring with a dragon tooth fragment dangling from it.

"Stop!" Veinsquirt the Strong, one of the field Subcommanders, yelled in a truly barbaric sounding hoarse voice, full of blood-thirst and gut-spitting glory. He approached Fishlegs who placed the hammer on his head and heaved, and grabbed his arms," You have good arms! I like you!" He stated in the same volume.

However, his murderous bloody eyes and terrifying voice did not leave any room to joke about what he had just said. He slapped his student on the back in an approving gesture, with a power that would have broken at least a few of Hiccup's ribs and his face broke in a tooth-missing smile, "Let's go smash!".

With these words summarising the rest of the training, they left to the woods to seek out new, unknown objects, to be smashed.

Hiccup really did not mind his teacher's charming Viking demeanour or Snotlout's awesomeness, or the twins' continuous bickering, or Fishlegs making him shiver whenever his monster of a weapon swung down.

It was all perfectly manageable. It was not even about Astrid this time.

It was about Astrid's instructor.

This light, silky hair in the colour of hay, these amber eyes and alabastrine-white teeth, this boar smile plastered to his handsome face and, as if in any other way, this lean, tall, muscular body. ...The heart-stealer of the village, the prodigy, Fleshpetal the Young. He also happened to be the youngest commander in Berk, only a few years older than Hiccup and, most importantly, he was currently busy flirting with Astrid.

The worst part was that his object of affection seemed to enjoy the interest. She did not kick, punch, elbow or did anything to make Fleshpetal keep his distance. Hiccup tried to keep his cool.

It did not matter that the guy was a desired love target for every women and girl in the village.

...Or that _even_ Astrid was impressed with his weapon skills, or that he was a great leader and enjoyed great respect from the village, or that he was tall, had this great body Hiccup could only dream of, handsome face and rich deep voice.

...No, Hiccup was fine, and he was not jealous at all. Not one bit.

Hiccup took out another arrow from the quiver, his arm getting worse and worse for some unknown reason. He strung the bow and Astrid giggled. He released the arrow which slid on his finger, burning out a part of skin with its movement. He yelled in pain and dropped the bow shaking his already bleeding finger.

"On Thor's goats!" He yelled painfully, shaking his hand furiously. Jawlock did not comment on his student's mistake or the worsening accuracy. Actually, he sneezed once into an old looking, grey handkerchief, loudly. Hiccup interpreted that as a sign of interest.

"You all right?" Astrid's voice immediately stopped the pain impulses from reaching Hiccup's brain.

"Absolutely!" The youth said in a careless manner, gesturing widely, "I was just... exercising!," he spoke merrily and began rotating his arms.

"Hiccup," The blonde girl face looked scared, "Blood is dripping from your face..."

"Well, look at that!" Hiccup beamed with a wide grin still present on his blood-spotted face, "I just did not notice!" and topped his speech with a nervous laugh.

Astrid uttered a careful, "All right..." and went back to practising with her teacher, who stopped one of his demonstrations for a moment and waited for the girl to finish. After he was done, he locked his eyes with Hiccups briefly. The bleeding boy distinctly knew then that he was not liked by Fleshpetal the Young.

It was a bit of surprise for Hiccup, who had always assumed that the young commander, even if not liking him, always seemed to tolerate the destructive boy. Fleshpetal had already been noticed since he was a young boy, thanks to his talent and the combination of his strength and intellect.

This went hand in hand with his desire to act rightfully and with honour. He never let anyone say a bad word about Hiccup when he was around and one time even stopped Snotlout from beating him more.

"Go do something about it," Jawlock's dry voice resonated behind Hiccup's back. The teen, reluctantly, padded to Gobber, sucking his finger. The blacksmith, with an understanding smile and a comment on the young boy's spirits, medicated the wound and bandaged it, chucking him a piece of cloth to wipe his face.

When Hiccup came back to his shooting spot, he found his teacher looking at the arrow-patched tree, holding his bow behind his back. He turned to the nearing youth and gave him the weapon with words, "Never leave yer weapon alone, guard it like th' pupil o' yer eye. Now shoot."

Hiccup accepted the laminate, feeling a bit ashamed of how he had just treated such a magnificent weapon, and stringing it again, he released the arrow.

"Stop," Jawlock said, almost immediately, "Take it," he offered the worn-out finger protector made from goat's leather. Hiccup muttered thanks and started firing again with the accessory.

The time passed with the boy training under the keen eye of Jawlock the Watchful. The sun already started to glow orange and the air became cooler. Hiccup had to make longer pauses between shots due to his sore muscles, now hurting from the workout, not managing to work with the same efficiency as before.

The youth strung the bow, his muscles trembling in painful agony, working on sheer willpower**.**

Hiccup only waited for the instant he would run out of arrows and would have to go and yank them out of the tree to enjoy a few moments free of pain. A few arrows before the hoped for moment however, the boy found himself unable to string the bow. He tried one time after the other, gasping in exertion. As if on signal, Jawlock turned away and walked off to where Gobber was napping, his helmet lying on his face, a hand resting behind his head.

The blacksmith woke up and quickly rose to greet the newcomer. They started a discussion which Hiccup had to listen to, since he had not been so far away.

The other trainees, except from an occasionally-giggling-from-some-lame-joke Astrid, had already finished their practise and were told by Gobber to go to the lumberjacks and get some wood and torches.

It appeared they would undergo some night training. That was why the Terrible Terror familiarisation would be in two days only. Hiccup wanted to train, but his body was not able to keep up with the regime Jawlock imposed on him.

The boy lay his weapon down and started taking out the arrows, hearing every word of the conversation the older Vikings were having.

"He's unquestionably skilled in a bow, there're no technical flaws I could spot, th' movement is clean an' fluid. Th' aim is very good although he seems to get easily ...distracted," Jawlock told in a neutral voice. Hiccup's heart did not even skip one beat when hearing these praising words; the question hung in the air, just ready to materialise and sting.

"Faster! Say it!" Hiccup hissed furiously to himself, extracting another projectile. It was deeply bored and he could not remove it without a few struggles first. It only fuelled his anger.

"But Gobber... I cannot overlook one thing...," The senior archer took a compassionate pause. For Hiccup, it was pure condescendingness and pity. He did not wish for either, "He is weak...," Jawlock said in what could have been interpreted as a soft voice.

"Aye, so he is," Gobber stated.

"I know how highly ya think of 'im, but there ar' some things tha' ya just can't teach. His body is...," Jawlock stopped, seeking for a proper word.

"Scrawny?" Gobber supplied half-seriously, half-jokingly.

"Yes... the boy is almost 16 springs old an' he is lookin' like a child! I must admit that even with his _scrawny_ posture his muscles ar' stronger than they appear, but it is just not enough,"

He took a breath as if to tell some terrifying verdict, "He will never be a warrior Gobber, no matter what weapon ya will give 'im, sword, axe or bow, his body jus' won't b' able to keep up with th' training, not even mentioning th' actual battle. He is gettin' tired too fast an' then keeps goin' using only his willpower. As admirable as it is, it's jus' pointless stubbornness... this could get 'im and other people killed," He finished, looking directly into Gobber's bright, blue eyes.

Hiccup stood still, backwards to the scene, trembling from anger. He folded his left fist so strongly he felt blood sipping through the bandage, beneath the finger's protector's leather.

It was never enough, no matter how hard he tried. He was always weaker, slower, clumsier, not agile enough. He was plainly not... 'everything' ...when it came to being a warrior. Had he trained all these years for nothing?

"Shit.," he whispered in hopeless fury, unable to sense whom he was more angry at, himself or this old prick who had summed up his life in two sentences.

Even if he did not feel being a dragon killer; and he was happy with this, he never denied that side of him that yearned to be stronger, be able to fight; for his father at first, then for himself once he had tasted how addicting training was, and especially now that he had the biggest motivation of all.

He wanted to protect Toothless.

The words Jawlock just said, deeply stung the boy like heated iron, stabbing the wavering pride and happiness he had felt in the morning.

How could he pretend protecting anyone if he could not get stronger and better at anything!

_It's not fair... it's not fucking fair_, he thought, feeling powerless against the crushing truth.

He had this useless body he despised and detested. He trained like crazy with his bow, had worked as a blacksmith for so long and still... nothing! How was it even possible? With all the lifting he had done, all these years working so hard and he was still just a useless toothpick.

He also had these burns adding more to his self-hatred. Yet, he did not feel weak. He had shouted these words to Gobber. The boy wanted to believe it, even if his logics did not support that.

Hiccup rarely self-pitied himself, repelling the dark thoughts with a pretence at self-confidence. However, some things were out of his control.

Willpower and power of mind, not supported by the strength of the body would always be only a power of mind. Closed and invisible, often misunderstood and laughed at, unintelligible, and never seeming as useful as physical fortitude. He had read about old faraway countries where the people who thought, not fought were respected the most. If he were born in another land, would he have led a better life?

He felt a strong hatred towards the Vikings. No, he hated himself, or Fleshpetal for smiling so nicely and with such ease that he did not possess. Hate. And sadness at how Astrid accepted it. He was not part of it; he never was a part of anything. Not a Viking, not a dragon killer, not a warrior, not a man anyone would want.

What was he supposed to do then? Who to be? Where to go?

Having filled the quiver, the light-red, polished leather which came together with the bow, he tied it to his right thigh, and took a few rage-filled steps forward, wishing for nothing else than to get out of this place.

_I am not running from my problems now. I am just one big..._, He let out a self-condemning snort, ..._one _little_ problem._

"I can't agree with ya on that, Sir," Hiccup heard the strong, calm, probing voice of Gobber.

The boy's steps ceased along with his anger. How could he just hate everybody? It would have been easier if he could have locked himself up in the antipathy and rejection of his people's values, but there were people like Gobber, who would not allow for it to happen.

Believing that the Vikings were only blood-thirsty, simple-minded killers was just a child's faith, just seeing the world in a light that would adjust to its thinking. Unaware of the cage he would create with it, not able to see past his own grudges.

Hiccup had been there before and he understood the silliness of such pointless philosophy.

He let out a breath, calming himself.

Jawlock did not mean to hurt him with his words. He did not know any other lifestyle than his and he was more caring and understanding with him than most of the Vikings were. He judged him fairly.

Hiccup did not know what to do. He only felt tired, not because of the practice, but of his situation. He wanted to go to Toothless and lie against his warm side, hug him and smell the leather-like dragon skin and see the usual Fury's prideful smirk.

"What ya say is certainly true an' I respect yer opinion. Hiccup is indeed weak an' lacks th' strength required to be a soldier, but nobody said tha' he needs t' b' in th' front line," Gobber continued in a friendly tone.

"What do ya mean?" Jawlock queried, sounding a bit surprised.

"I asked ya t' judge th' lad's bow skills an' even if he can't be as good as a normal archer would be, he can still be useful, even more, unrepeatable. Th' only thing t' achieve tha' is t' make Hiccup a leader!" The blacksmith intonated the last word, sounding like describing the most obvious thing in the world.

"Even if," The archer started in disbelief, "How will th' boy survive with such nonexistent battle skills?" Jawlock spat out irritably.

"How will he survive with such body, not battle skills," Gobber corrected casually, "Ya said it yerself, his bow skills ar' more tha' excellent, it is his body tha' is at fault her'," the trainer spoke. His interlocutor did not answer. Hiccup turned to see the unusual scene.

Jawlock stood with his hand on his beard, stroking it and looking pensive. Gobber was in front of him, bearing a pleasant smile, but his eyes gleamed in a way that did not allow any objection.

"Th' only way for Hiccup t' survive this trainin' is t' use th' power of his mind. Th' leader does not need t' fight directly. He needs t' use th' more gifted soldiers to win th' battle," Gobber stated.

"Such dishonour not b' fightin'-," Jawlock uttered.

"Oh, but he will be fightin'! Th' bow is more than efficient when it comes t' shooting humans. Our weapons ar' bigger an' heavier than normal only because of th' dragons. What matters here th' most is tha' he and his unit would survive. Power of mind is wha' allowed us t' win th' last Tribe War, have ya forgotten?"

Jawlock pondered for a moment, "I understand now an' I haven't forgotten what ya have done with Stoick and his brother, Spitelout," he said with respect and sighed," Ya believe in Hiccup an' won't change yer mind no matter what?" He asked with a small smile.

"No matter what," Gobber agreed and both men squeezed each other's hands.

"I've heard th' boy was th' first one to defeat a dragon; perhaps yer right," Jawlock told, looking into the blacksmith's eyes. The older warrior released his hand and spoke in a more official tone, "I want t' see th' boy next week. He will train near my house. This place offers far too many... distractions. I bid you farewell Gobber," he bowed his head, longer and lower than manners required, and the blacksmith nodded a little longer and lower as well.

Hiccup stepped closer to his mentor, thousands of questions in his mind, but he did not voice any of them. Both stood next to each other, Gobber letting the silence flow, their figures still.

"I'm going to get them killed," Hiccup said, breaking the quietness.

Gobber smiled warmly, putting his hand on the teen's shoulder, "No Hiccup, ya will do it and ya will do it right. Ya always wanted t' be a warrior an' I can see how ya enjoy yerself when trainin'. Being a warrior is also t' get past what is holding ya back. T' win over yerself is t' win th' hardest battle in life," His arm pressed Hiccup's leather padded shoulder stronger, "Anyway, ya will see wha' I mean in th' evening, now go t' th' Mead Hall, get some food an' b' back. Looks like Fleshpetal is goin' back an' I need t' talk with him."

"All right," Hiccup said simply, his mind blank, not knowing if he had just agreed to go and eat something or to be responsible for the lives of others on the battlefield. Time would show that he had already agreed to both.

* * *

It was dark already; the sky did not had the usual romantic and charming starry display. It was clouded with large dark shapes, dousing the little light the night provided. The moonlight managed to penetrate the shadowy layer and lightened the red polished wood of Hiccup's bow, mixing the added fire with yellow and crimson.

_It cannot be any worse than that_!, the boy added this happy thought to his personal collection of 'How to motivate yourself when you fight for survival'.

There were five big fires, made from the wood bales the trainees had brought with the help of a few men and women who wanted to enjoy the evening show, and show it was.

When Hiccup thought that Gobber would not come up with another idea to make his life harder, he declared another training. There seemed to be nothing wrong with that aside from the few rules created for this instance.

They were divided into groups of two and were fighting no one else than Gobber. The main purpose was to practise teamwork and night-time fighting with the fire as a light source.

The objective was simple: defeat Gobber before the sand in an hourglass would pour out. It was acceptable as well. The thing which Hiccup found it very hard to cope with, was to accept his new partner. Snotlout.

They were fighting as the last pair. All the previous ones had not managed to make Gobber admit defeat. Fishlegs and Tuffnut were doing all right, without any tactic, but trying to work together. Astrid and Ruffnut were much better, not only being great as a unit, but also using tactics, Astrid jauntily shouted at her fellow-soldier, as the pretended dragon, Gobber, seemed to know all about the tricks the blondes tried to execute.

Now, he found himself standing near the fire, trying to use it as a cover and trying to find his teammate before he lunged himself into another ludicrous battle with Gobber.

As strong and masterful in sword fighting as Snotlout was, he did not stand a chance alone against the much more experienced warrior. Gobber tonight was wearing full armour, consisting of a tight long chainmail, plate besagews, bracers, graves and a circular knee protector. Gobber for obvious reasons did not require another one. To make this adorable image complete, the blacksmith wore a helmet with face and nose protector, openings for eyes and two big, spiralling Nightmare horns attached to it.

Most Vikings had stopped using the metal armour since they had not fought humans for a long time. When fighting dragons, you needed speed and swiftness the most and iron was also great in conducting heat, certainly not an advantage.

Hiccup listened to the sounds of the battle, metal clinging against metal and to the quickened breaths of the fighters. At the tree line, spectators gathered, lively exchanging comments, eating and drinking; some even brought their children. Nothing better to pass the time than to watch somebody get beaten.

With a painful yell, Snotlout confessed his defeat. After being hit, or when Gobber stopped his sword-shaped attachment near your body, you had to lay down and wait for the other participant to 'die' as well. You could also hope for him or her to be able to end Gobber's dominance.

Hiccup jumped out from behind the fire, his bow struck and only saw Snotlout lying on the ground. His eyes scanned the area, searching for the enemy. He decided to hide again, not wanting to let himself be seen for too long.

"Yer dead!" A voice full of joy sung behind him.

"You are clearly enjoying yourself," Hiccup said nonchalantly, turning to see Gobber towering over him. Seeing only his gleaming eyes in the helmet at night was not a pleasant experience.

"Time's runnin' out! Don't let yerself b' distracted, think and use team-work! Concentrate! Think of somethin' ya want t' be stronger for!" The Nightmare-Gobber said quickly and left to hide again in the darkness, roaring as a Nightmare, but sounding more like a dying cat, he cough a few times and tried to roar again in a higher intonation.

Snotlout gathered himself from the ground and did not move from the spot, his sword low, an angry grimace on his face. Hiccup snorted and looked at the small crowd. It did not take him long to find the blonde girl thanks to how the light glowed on her hair in golden reflections. His heart fluttered, seeing her looking directly at him, her newest adorer leaning against the tree next to her, arms crossed, looking deadly serious. Ruffnut was close by, and saluted him with a wide grin, her brother huffing in disdain, and Fishlegs yelled encouragements to him.

Astrid was looking at him, he had the support of a lot of people -for him it was a lot. Gobber defended him, what else did he need?

He grabbed his bow tighter. He would win this to prove that he could do it, to others and to himself and most importantly, he would not disappoint Toothless. That dragon had seen in him somebody to respect since they had first met, and he instinctively sensed it was an honest feeling. He did not want to ponder over the bizarreness of such conception; he felt the respect from Toothless and his desire for Hiccup to be something more, period.

"Snotlout!" He hissed to his cousin, trying to swallow his pride. The thought of the dragon left his mind strangely fresh.

"Fuck off!" the scrawny teen's relative said back, already getting ready to seek Gobber again, Hiccup was not about to let that happen, he stepped in and grabbed Snotlout by the arm.

"You want to win this or not?," he said furiously, the bulkier teen looked at the hand that dared touch him as if contemplating if cutting it off would be such a bad idea.

Snotlout would never let him command him, unless...

"Look at Astrid," Hiccup said quietly and his cousin's eyes livened, looking above his shoulder, "See? She is looking here! She wants us to win this!"

"She is looking at me and wants me to win!" Snotlout stated happily. Hiccup would have never said so himself, but this turn of events played at his advantage.

"Yes! And you want to look cool in front of her! Not covered in dirt, defeated by Gobber!" the scrawny boy stated hopefully, releasing his grasp.

Snotlout did not answer, looking at Hiccup curiously.

"Why would you do that?" he asked, fully turning to the smaller teen, "You like Astrid and maybe you want to use me to make yourself look more awesome than me?"

_Oh, Snotty can think sometimes. I didn't anticipate this_, Hiccup thought and a sad smile appeared on his face. If he was going to earn a bit of his cousin's trust, he had to get rid of his scores against him.

"Yes I like her, I wonder how much you managed to deduct this from my obvious behaviour and my looking at her all the time. Must have taken you long to come up with it," he spoke sarcastically and Snotlout showed his teeth threateningly, "But I care more about proving all people around us that I am worth something, not only a waste of space! And that's why I am going to win this!" He breathed out, boring into Snotlout's eyes. He left his best argument to the end, "Besides, do you really think Astrid would _ever_ lay her eyes on," he gestured to himself, "on all this?"

It hurt him to say these truthful words, but this was not the time for sentiments. Snotlout kept his eyes locked with Hiccup's as if trying to detect any deception. Finally he grinned, "Of course she would never like you, Toothpick! She is going to like me! The true Viking!," he stated proudly, and wiped his face with his sleeve, looking at the boy attentively.

The voice he spoke with was serious and emotionless and his face hardened, his eyes gleaming dangerously as if he had just changed into another person, "I can't come up with a plan to defeat the enemy. You will think of it and instruct me what to do. You will only have one chance to do it. After, I will go back to trying to defeat the enemy my way."

"I need two chances," Hiccup eyed his cousin fearlessly, "I promise on my clan colours we will defeat the enemy after the second try."

"All right," Snotlout said automatically and leaned closer to the smaller boy, "Don't mess this up, Haddock."

Hiccup hated the fact he had actually reached a subtle understanding with this brute, but they had an objective to fulfil.

"Don't worry," he said confidently, fire reflecting in his widely opened eyes, "I won't."

* * *

Gobber waited for the signal to start, kneeling well away from the fires. His blade was positioned in a way it would not reflect the light and betray his presence, and his armour was well hid behind the three elbow tall, dark, rectangular shield. It was an unusual piece of equipment for Berk. It was gigantic compared to the typical, smaller, round shields. It had been a long time since he had used this type of shield. It was a common piece of equipment when fighting humans. It would grant good protection against archers and help keep ground against the incoming warriors. It all depended of course: on the weather, time of the day, terrain or type of mission...

He had chosen the armour plating because of all the teens. Not for the protection, but for the occasions on which it might cling or shine in the dark, letting the trainees spot him.

He had chosen the shield only because of Hiccup. Archers were his worst enemy. He could not react with the agility and speed he used to have because of his lacking limbs.

Would the boy notice this? It did not matter!

Tonight he wanted to have fun! He experienced an excitement he had not felt for so long. His face wore a mad grin, as Hiccup stepped in with Snotlout.

They would not cooperate, they would fight each other and then Hiccup would snap and change the situation. The boy cared about his pride and about a certain girl who was showing very unfortunate signs of accepting her trainer far too much to the pubescent youths' liking.

Fishlegs and Tuffnut were good with teamwork, but terrible with planning. Fishlegs would be an excellent soldier with superior strength and a not half-bad mind. Moderate fun.

Tuffnut would be another typical warrior, strong mouthed, but average with his weapon. Low entertainment.

Ruffnut was similar to her brother; although she perhaps did not show everything yet and Gobber could not tell if she actually cared about this training or not. Not that much fun either.

Astrid, however, was an excellent soldier, picture-perfect through and through in both fighting and planning, a certain future unit leader. This was also where she was losing so much of the fun she could render. She was so perfect that it was just painfully repetitive after some time. She probably was not aware of it and when she asked him many times about something, he subtly hinted at it every time. It was plainly her state of mind. The problem was she would have to go over it, or the frustration it would cause would cause her fall.

Snotlout was excellent fun-giver material . He had this instinctive way of learning by fighting, very similar to Gobber's. Even if not bright he could adapt to almost anything and learned fast. As they fought tonight the blacksmith already noticed how Snotlout did not make the same mistakes twice, fighting better and better with each struggle. Another person not aware of a true fact about himself. If Gobber told him how talented he was, it would rise his self-confidence in too dangerous levels.

Hiccup, ah the scrawny boy nobody had ever seen as anything worth mentioning. From all the group, he was the most fun. From his witty remarks to his unique behaviour. He was certainly not another boring let's-kill-themwhoevertheyare-all Viking. If Gobber's instincts were right, the boy would be the endless treat he desired. Ever-adapting and always coming up with something new and original.

His grin faded, watching closely as Hiccup talked to Snotlout.

The boy changed too fast. It was not a steady progress. It was a leap from sarcastic weakling to sarcastic weakling with rising confidence and remarkable courage. Or had these qualities been there all the time, simply hidden for never being requested into showing themselves?

No, Hiccup was changing, it was all in how he moved and talked, it was all... him transforming, almost unnoticeably and elusively. Gobber expected this of course, gently guiding the youth through, even beating him up once. All was going for the better.

He let out a bored sigh.

Still, the change the boy had undergone was too sudden.

He used to notice it happening to his fellow soldiers. Humans could change permanently in a split instant. A long journey, contemplating morals and counting chances were good, but for a book. If you saw your lover die in front of you, you would loose time pondering what to do, you would do it. Evil things, good things, all lost their meaning when it came to war.

It was just a giant mass of infinite greyness.

Morals became heavy and useless. There was no taboo, no restriction anymore. He had seen people change into animals. Mindless beasts, ready to die or live; either sounded the same.

They were interesting to watch. ...Perhaps he was such beast himself? What war and violence was doing to people. Humans react to danger very well, they adapt faster. They learn faster and show their true face.

True courage and true cowardliness could not be taught or trained. That was why he had always let his trainees experience danger. That taught them faster than any other method would allow. The human change was always dictated by feelings, but not any kind of feelings, only by the strongest ones. Fear, anger, lust, greed, guilt, loss... had something actually _happened_ to Hiccup?

"We're ready!" he heard Snotlout yelling through the darkness.

He tilted his head to the side.

Oh, he should not bother himself with silly thoughts like that.

He was a dragon tonight, and dragons never let their prey waiting.

* * *

Silly story time- written in England, by me. Proofread in Iceland, by Fjord Mustang. Read in your house- wherever that may be!

"Why are we here again?" Hiccup asked, looking at the people-and-dragon-filled bar. The same they were in before

" It is finally Friday and you lead me to the place with the most expensive drinks in town! We almost don't have any money left!" He said angrily.

Toothless was busy flirting with a female Deadly Nadder, standing near the entrance. Hiccup's face twitched, but he calmed himself and approached the dragoness.

"I apologise, Madam, but the hideous Fury in front of you is a cheating jerk. He also was perfectly happy to be with … Sparkletta," he said in a super friendly way.

The Nadder eyes narrowed with fury, her tail raising threateningly, at Toothless, who smiled sheepishly," There is a good reason for that..**!**."

His elaborate explanation was disrupted by the dragoness headbutting him with her horn and**,** with a dignified snort**,** she walked away.

"Are you all right?" Hiccup asked, a bit worried about his friend.

Toothless gathered himself from the parquet and shook his head.

"Female Nadders are quite aggressive**,** you know?" he said painfully. It took him a second after that statement for a dreamy smile ornament his muzzle," but they have the same energy once you get to know them, if you know what I mean," He grinned.

"Yes, I am sure they are 'spiked' with fun," Hiccup said, straight-faced, "So why are we here?" he asked.

Toothless smirked ,"I remember how you like those 'fanfiction' thingies. Pity there are no lesbian dragoness stories, I would read one myself!" Toothless mused, letting his mind run wild," Anyway, today there is one fanfic author here giving out autographs, I thought you might like it," He said, puffing his chest proudly.

"For a useless reptile and incurable pervert **, **that was awfully nice of you. Thanks bud," the boy said gratefully.

They both ordered a beer**.** This time, Toothless had a beer barrel attached to his head with a straw near his mouth, slurping it occasionally.

They both soon noticed an ugly-looking, frayed banner with a sign, "I suck at sign-writing, please come and get my autograph! Noaw!"

Hiccup gulped the beer from the glass bottle he held in his hand," Interesting... this must be another illogical thing done by fanfic authors," he said **, **and tried to get through the crowd, who was dancing and enjoying themselves**.**

Hiccup oriented his gaze on the banner," You going?" he asked Toothless, who stopped and looked to the side.

Hiccup looked where his friend was looking and saw a beautiful female Night Fury, sitting alone by the wall," Have fun...," Hiccup only managed to say as Toothless trotted away, the beer-hat wobbling dangerously on his head.

The boy finally managed to squeeze through the people and saw a small table and a pretty teenage girl sitting in a chair, arms by her face, muttering something to herself.

"Um, hello?" Hiccup said, trying to get the girl's attention. She had an empty stare and did not react to the youth's greeting.

Hiccup came closer and managed to hear what the girl was saying.

"I suck at summaries, I suck at summaries, I suck at summaries," repeated over and over again like a mantra.

_Not really inviting, isn't it_? Hiccup thought and stood there for a moment, trying to figure out why the girl author would act in this way to repel the reader's from her story. Unable to come up with any answer**,** he returned to the bar counter and continued drinking his beer in silence, observing the people and dragons passing by.

After a while Toothless trotted by, his beer keg gone and him in an obvious drunk state.

"Imma in luv!" He said happily, leaning from side to side.

"If I would get a _floren_ for every time I hear that..." Hiccup said sarcastically.

"She *hic* is perfect! I know where she lives and-and she invited me! To talk!" he made a step forward and ending tripping. Hiccup sighed, not wanting to tease his friend in such state.

"Come on, let's go home. It's unusual for you to go focus first on conversation with a lady, so maybe she might be the right one for you," He spoke encouragingly.

Tomorrow a terrified roar woke Hiccup up.

"Its Saturday, will you stop that!" He yelled in irritation**, ** throwing a pillow at his dragon's muzzle," What is it this time?"

Toothless looked around, confused," I feel like I have forgotten something... a meeting? My aunt's birthday? She hates when I forget about it…Oh, well," he uttered**, ** and his head dropped with a thud to the floor.

"What about the beauty you met yesterday?" Hiccup asked from his bed," You said you love her."

"Oh her?" Toothless answered, with eyes closed," I was drunk. That does not count."

"I hope someday one of your previous 'girlfriends' will find you, and beat you senseless," the boy muttered, and with this sensitive sentiment, they both went back to sleep.

* * *

AN: I think this is the longest story in HTTYD fandom now. I just hope the quality is going in pair with quantity. Your opinions are always welcome!


	19. Fair Trade

AN: Just reminding. It is not um, bestiality fic. Sorry to disappoint some of you.

* * *

The plan was simple. It was so simple Snotlout was doubting it might work at all. He was placing his good name in Hiccup's far-too-small and ergo incapable hands however, he also wanted to win this fight and make Astrid notice further what an amazing warrior he was.

He was just using Haddock to achieve his goal. The easily breakable boy had spoken very convincingly whilst telling him of his desire to prove himself in front of his people. In addition, he had promised on his clan colours that all the glory would fall to him, Snotlout. Haddock was many loathsome things, but he was certainly not a liar.

Snotlout stepped into the middle of the 'ring', cracked his neck and twisted the sword around his wrist, observing the surroundings. There were five fires, two by the tree line near which the crowd had gathered and two placed at a wider range on the sides with one on top. It created one of these geometric figures...

Snotlout tried to remember what its name was. Pentagoran? ...Or something.

He grabbed the sword handle in two hands, concentrating his eyes on the Nightmare twisting around the guard. If there was any dragon Snotlout could connect with, it was definitely the most dangerous of them all. King of the battlefield. Always the first to strike and the last to retreat. He repulsed all the thoughts, leaving his mind blank and open. There was a _Nightmare_ somewhere around, not a human. And that dragon had to be defeated.

He was not using the shield, it did not feel right, not tonight. In battle, he never rallied on his useless mind. He trusted his body more than anything. So far it had worked. More or less.

He turned around, gazing at the night's space, trying to spot where the attack would come from.

He turned back rapidly, and his sword fell down in a lightning move. Snotlout stayed in this position, his balance put on the front leg, torso lowered, observing the surroundings. The two wooden balls kept rolling on the grass behind him, the remains of the bola he had cut an instant ago. He had fallen for it for the first time and he would not let the same thing happen now. He now had a plan to follow and he would perform his best for the plan to succeed, because he was a soldier and failing was not an option.

He noted a glimpse of something metallic by the fire with calm anticipation, and another bola hissed through the air, rotating rapidly, aiming lowly, for his legs. Without a thought, he made a step forward and jumped above the projectile in a perfect aerial and right after his soft landing, he sprinted to the fire the most excreted forward. Hiccup's order. He heard a clanging of the dragon's armour behind. It was following him, as predicted.

They both had one big advantage, he had learned from the scrawny archer: speed. They could run and the beast was limping. It did not make it any less dangerous; only gave you a bit more time before it got you. Snotlout had asked why Hiccup could not simply shoot into the dragon's back as it followed him. The reason why they could not do that was simple, for Hiccup at least. The dragon would never allow himself to end up cornered from both sides, always waiting for the good moment to attack, showing itself and then disappearing. As long as you did not know where the dragon was, you had to improvise and Snotlout was not good in it.

He was now behind the fireplace, the fire tongues much larger than he was, a perfect cover not to be seen by anyone, at present, he only had to wait.

He listened carefully, hearing only sounds of sizzling wood, and flames. A burst of sparks exploded from the fire with a loud crack, giving for a split moment more light around. It was enough for Snotlout to see the blade materialising from the darkness and thrusting at him, aiming at his chest. It was as if the weapon was fighting by itself, hovering in the air. The illusion disappeared when he parried the blow with a sharp swing to the left and the hideous head with two twisting horns appeared.

_"Position Gobber in the centre of the flames," Hiccup had said._

Not engaging, Snotlout performed a quick back handspring and did a covering upward cut at front after landing. The dragon made a step forward, Snotlout waited, feeling sweat drop running down on his check. It felt far too long, but he had received instructions and he would abide by them.

The dragon cocked its head, two shining eyes looking at Snotlout with animal curiosity from beneath its helmet, when it turned abruptly, facing the fire, and shielded itself.

Snotlout cursed inwardly and plunged forward. At the same moment, out of nowhere, an arrow streaked through the flames and bored into the shield. Snotlout's sword almost touched the dragon's armour when it took a rapid step back and caught the striking weapon between his armoured elbow with the short grinding sound of cut metal. Before the young warrior was able to react, he felt the dragon's fang stinging his throat, its hands crossed, the left one holding the shield and the right one attacking.

He dropped to the ground on his back and gazed up, relaxing. The dragon started hunting its next prey and there were several more sounds of arrows striking a shield and not so long after Hiccup admitted defeat.

On Snotlout's face grew a very satisfied smirk.

Everything was going as planned.

* * *

Gobber was having fun.

He took out two bolas from the weapon basket, resupplying, hanging them by small hooks on the heavy leather belt. He was concealed by the darkness, away from the noise of people, allowing themselves to talk about what they had just seen, and away from fires, but flames were all right.

The way they moved always soothed him, unpredictable tongues of heat, dancing, swirling and twirling, harmoniously portraying the orange, yellow and red co-existence. Fire never seemed violent and dangerous to him. It was an element full of peace and hypnotising beauty. Perhaps it was the reason why he had become a blacksmith after he had lost his limbs and the only love he had ever experienced.

"We're ready!" Snotlout yelled and the din ceased. Both the people's chatter and Gobber's thoughts.

_These silly thoughts again_!, He scolded himself half-heartedly, the humorous demeanour not abandoning him even for a moment. It was not really his fault; his mind relaxed the most when he was in combat.

He stood up, already sensing the excitement, another portion of entertainment he would experience.

Snotlout and Hiccup again ran together to the fireplace at the top and hid behind it from Gobber's view. He saw a reddish gleam in the darkness, shaped in a double curve, above the ground, moving up and down quickly. It was Hiccup's new bow, a very fine piece of weaponry, but it had one downside which made Gobber's job much easier. One of the main components creating the laminate was highly polished and varnished wood that acted almost like a mirror, reflecting the light and betraying its wielder's movement. This applied to Snotlout's sword as well. The young warriors were not aware of it, and the blacksmith was not about to enrich their lives with this knowledge.

This time he would go after the archer, as the last attack surprised him. Not many Viking kids use something original in battle, and creativity should always be rewarded. In this occasion, with shield bashing.

The plate which caught Snotlout's blade had a cut up in it, and he felt his arm bleed beneath it, drops dripping from his loosened fingers. A long time had passed since any trainee had managed to injure him.

It took him a while to catch up to the glowing bow's position. Hiccup was standing, or kneeling, away from the fire, his silhouette unreadable. Gobber checked his surroundings once again. Snotlout was nowhere to be spotted, plausibly hiding or waiting for a signal. He would thus not be able to arrive on time to aid his teammate.

Reassured, Gobber started sneaking towards the boy, a victorious smile rising on his face. He closed, getting ready to strike when, after a short snapping sound, Gobber fell to the ground, unable to control his body. The sharp blade, placed on his nape, forbade him from standing up.

"You have lost, dragon," a dark voice announced.

"I did not expect you here, Snotlout," Gobber cheerfully retorted from the ground.

How was it possible for him to be there! How did Hiccup-?

He looked up to see the black-haired teen standing over him, shirtless, swinging the sword which was apparently covered with the teen's jacket on his arm, and holding the familiar-looking bow in the second hand.

A prolonged silence sunk and then from beneath Gobber's helmet, a quiet, hushed laughter emerged and transformed into a loud and uncontrollable one, booming through the meadow.

Tears of mirth fell of the blacksmith's eyes. He had lost! In a way he could not even tell how!

He semi-sat and took off his helmet, gasping for air; he then saw his peg leg clearly cut in the middle and the arrow bored into the ground by it. It caused him to laugh even harder.

It was so much fun!

Snotlout looked at him with raised eyebrow.

"How did ya know?" Gobber asked after managing to calm himself, smiling widely.

"I used the same tactic you used on us," an answer came behind him. The blacksmith turned his head and saw Hiccup, emerging from the darkness, holding a training bow in his hand.

"I see...," Gobber said, looking back at Snotlout, "Ya knew how was I able t' spot ya an' th' first time ya lost on purpose, makin' me believe tha' my simple strategy is still workin'. Shootin' me through th' fire was t' make me believe further in my infallibility."

"In-fa-a... - what?" uttered Snotlout.

"That he would never make a mistake," Hiccup explained calmly. Gobber nodded and continued watching the flames in front of him.

"Right after th' second round ya gave yer teammate th' bow an' ran in th' dark to th' basket I used t' resupply myself. How did ya know where it was?" the blacksmith queried, curious.

Hiccup swiped his hair and looked away as if embarrassed, "You always came from the same direction and you used more than five bolas on Snotlout. You had to get these from somewhere so I thought they would come from the same basket you brought with yourself today," the boy said simply and Snotlout nodded, trying to look convincing about having had exactly the same idea.

Gobber chuckled wholeheartedly, his armour crunching with the massive chest movements, "So simple!" he said loudly and hit his head lightly with his hand, "An' yet... I did not see it. I've underestimated ya greatly," his head turned to Snotlout and put his head down, showing his respect, "I've underestimated both of ya, please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, grampa," the sword-wielding teen answered lazily, taking his tunic off the sword and putting it on through his head. He then sheathed the blade on his belt, "It was a good fight," he outstretched his hand to the blacksmith who grabbed it immediately and stood up, jumping on one leg.

"Help me t' my basket, please," Gobber told the boys gently, leaning on Snotlout's shoulder. Hiccup made a few quick steps to support his teacher from the other side.

"Time's up!" Tuffnut's scream rang through the, now quiet, meadow. People were unaware of the events that happened just a few moments ago. It all happened behind a wall of fire. They started talking to each other, exchanging comments and observations, waiting for the contestants to be back.

Gobber walked in silence, relishing the moment, feeling proud and happy. They were away of the flames and people, only a muffled laugh reached them. The loudest sounds were the ruffle of the grass, breaking under their boots.

"Snotlout used his tunic t' cover th' blade an' he ran t' th' fire closest t' ya. Ya took another bow an' came back finishin' with th' blazin' victory!" he squeezed the youths harder, "There is just one thing I d' not understand. How did ya know where t' shoot?" he asked, looking at the scrawny boy.

"Your peg-leg," Hiccup said nonchalantly, smiling "It is made from polished wood, isn't it?"

Gobber laughed quietly, "Aye, it is," he said and released the teens, leaping a short distance to the basket, muttering to himself ,"So simple, so simple..." He pawed through the basked contents, barely visible from the boy's position.

Something suddenly struck Hiccup in the stomach. He gasped painfully and looked down, seeing his bow's tip.

"You didn't screw up," Snotlout said with a disdaining nasal huff.

Hiccup grasped his weapon and jerked it out from his cousin's hand, "Neither did you," he returned emotionlessly.

These ware all the words they exchanged. Gobber appeared again, without his armour and sword-attachment. Instead of them, he was carrying the basket on his back, wobbling as he hobbled forward putting on his usual helmet, above his grinning face, the metal tooth gleaming strongly.

"I did not know you had an extra peg leg in there," Hiccup said humorously.

"Anythin' a modern Viking might need!" Gobber said with his usual energy and his hands possessed the younglings again as he walked to the fires, "Come my warriors! Let th' people see ya an' admire yer power," he patted Snotlout's back, "an' cunningness!" he repeated the same with Hiccup, "Time t' celebrate!"

"Oh yeah!" Snotlout yelled happily. Hiccup only smiled, his thoughts leaning more and more to the Fury instead of the alcohol-filled festivity.

He did not feel fulfilled; neither did he need to be praised further. Gobber's words were more than enough. It did not matter if he received a pat in the back, or if somebody shouted how amazing he was. It all felt artificial, untruthful and distant. He had heard the people's loud laugh and clatter of mugs. They just talked, about gods knows what, trivial things, the small necessities of most people's lives.

It was a good moment to try and impress Astrid, to try to make her notice him. Then, Hiccup saw Fleshpetal standing next to her, his smile charming and natural.

The boy had accepted the reality of the situation long ago. The blonde beauty was out of his reach, it was just a fool's fantasy, which would never become reality. He did not want to see her face, smiling to another man and pretend to have a great time with people who used to scrutinise and look down on him. That would just hurt himself further.

Above all, he had also promised something, taking an oath. Losing a good name was the greatest crime any Viking could commit.

Hiccup suddenly stopped walking. Gobber did the same and looked down at the boy with a questioning look.

"I need to go," Hiccup spoke plainly, looking at the small human figures in front of him, trying to spot one. In the same amount of time it had taken him to notice Astrid's silhouette in avid discussion with her teacher, he regretted looking ahead so he looked at his right hand, holding his most treasured bow.

Without a word of protest, the blacksmith put his hand off the youngling's shoulders, "Here," Hiccup said, trying to squeeze happiness into his voice, turning to his mentor and putting his training bow in front of himself.

"Ar' ya sure?" Gobber asked, dumbfounded, looking at the weapon. Snotlout looked at the exchange with a blank face, not saying anything. Weapons always had more meaning to them than just a piece of wood or metal. They represented the warrior and the quality of weapon did not matter, but what it meant to its wielder. The primitive-looking long bow the scrawny boy had used to train himself was a very valuable item. Only its value was not expressed in gold or silver but in the amount of sweat drops and blood spilled when practising with it, and for the Vikings, money was at the bottom of the important things list.

Hiccup smiled, his hands smoothing the old bow's surface, "I'm sure you will take good care of it."

Gobber took the weapon, studying its surface, seeing the smothered exterior full of small bents and a little dimple where the arrow touched its shaft, letting it tell its life's tale, "Thank ya, lad, I will treat it as my own," he nodded, accepting the gift.

Hiccup, feeling there would not be any more words spoken, eyed Snotlout for a moment. The latter met his gaze, their eyes shining in the dimmed light, before Hiccup let himself sprint.

The boy ran past the fires, unnoticed almost by anyone who would bother to spot the grey shadow momentarily blurring the night, far from the riot and mirthful talks, heading to the path down from the elevation.

Astrid was the one who saw Hiccup, right before he disappeared, swallowed by the night.

* * *

"Ya ready to celebrate yer victory?" Gobber asked with gaiety in his voice, looking at Snotlout. The teen scratched his cheek, skin itching from sweat and dirt, looking not very interested, "Or is it ya ar' not so willin' t' celebrate once yer partner is gone?" the blacksmith added teasingly.

The chunky teen, stared at the place where Hiccup had disappeared from his view, before grinning and looking ahead, not meeting Gobber's eyes, "Don't compare me to that idiot! Let's get smashed tonight!" he yelled and ran into the light to inform people as loudly as possible, about his astonishing achievement.

The blacksmith did not follow and let himself look at the same place Snotlout was glaring at. Hiccup had changed, there was no denying it, now. The boy rejected the idea of people swarming to him and praising his warrior spirit and brilliant mind, a thing he had yearned for so long. There was no laugh or sense of happiness to him.

It was not something Gobber would have expected. How many times did Hiccup have his little rant which invariably ended with the words, 'one day everybody will see what an awesome Viking I am'? It felt as an honest feeling, emanating from every endeavour he took towards his goal of being a warrior.

He would have to keep a closer eye on the boy from now on. It was just too much fun to miss how things would develop further. However, Gobber could not get rid of a sudden worry, pricking his heart and sending shivers through his spine. Perhaps it was because of Astrid... yes it had to be, a simple love problem, pubescent feeling.

Snotlout's yelling and thundering clapping made him forget this unexpected sensation. He quickened his steps to rectify the already much-too-boastful story of his defeat.

* * *

The light from the torch was slowly disappearing. Small tongues of fire were still visible on the wood threaded with flax. Shadows were moving rapidly on the rock Hiccup was leaning on, barely able to catch a breath, his lungs burning.

It was worth it, all the terrible fatigue and pain, all the attention he could receive.

The torch fell out from his hand and tried to burn for a moment longer on the ground, before dying out completely. Hiccup stepped into the cove and fell on his knees, like a long-gone traveller, now back to his home after many years of wandering.

"Tooth-...," he coughed a few times, "Toothless," he said into the darkened space. Nothing answered him, the grove was motionless and silent.

The sky was still clouded; the moon light was not able to pass fully through their dark cover, only a shining mackle indicated the night's-sun position. The white and grey stones were sticking out from the shadows, their colours being the most visible to human eyes.

"Look who is here!" he said louder, standing up and opening his arms, a fish glimmering in his right hand.

He had gone home right after leaving Gobber and the only things he did in his house were, unstring the bow, devour some smoked chicken's meat, take off the quiver, letting it fall in the kitchen, grab a sack and put fur covers inside, take a fish, run out and grab the first lit torch he could find.

All the while stumbling, hitting unmoving objects with his tibia and trying not to curse loudly. He did not take off his protectors; they always came in handy as he was getting more experienced at hitting the ground.

An owl called in the distance and Hiccup's hands dropped along with his smile. He expected, wanted for the dragon to jump out suddenly and floor him, grab him by the ankle, or eat his head or roar into his face. He would have enjoyed any devilish plan Toothless had in store for him.

He walked ahead slowly, cautious not to fall again.

"Toothless!" he called out again with a trifle of desperation in his voice. Where was the Fury? What if...- he stopped, his muscles unwillingly tensing in terror- what if the dragon had left? Hiccup did not want to be alone again. Waves of panic made him cry out the creature's name again.

The moon showed itself and brightened the area for a moment in a clear, pearly light. The teen spotted a blue shimmering mass, lying on the massive oval rock, partially submerged in water by the pond's shore.

Hiccup approached it carefully. Why was there something blue in the cove? Where was Toothless? As he stepped closer he could discern that the blue bulk was scaled.

"Where is Toothless?" he demanded, taking a few steps back. A flat head separated from the blue hulk and yawned showing pearly white teeth. Then the dragon smacked his lips and nose a few times, and opened its eyes. They were green.

"Toothless?" Hiccup said, stupefied, "Why are you... blue?" he asked; and shortly after, he got smacked in the head with a single finned tail. Yes, it was definitely Toothless. "Nice to see you too, buddy," the boy gasped, rubbing his head.

The dragon lit up the rock they used before, and lay down in front of it, all black in his scaled glory. That anomaly was just too much for Hiccup's brain to handle, he _had_ to know why the dragon was blue a second ago.

He circled Toothless a couple of times, hand on his chin, muttering to himself. The Fury acted dignified, looking ahead with a world-weary expression. He did not react as the pup took his tail and took it out of the light the fire-stone glowed with.

With an astonished 'Oohh' Hiccup saw how the scales changed colour in the moonlight. He moved the tail-tip closer to the rock and it became dark again, away, blue, he did the same again and again, moving faster every time like a kid with a new toy. Toothless's eyebrow twitched faster with hastened moves of his tail.

"I just wanted to see, sorry..." Hiccup would murmur later, holding his hurting head which had just been ministered with tail and wing. Even with the treatment, the boy had a smile plastered to his face all the time he saw the dragon.

Toothless drew several learned words on the soil in front of him.

YOU GO HERE, finished with a sloppy question mark.

Hiccup analyzed the apparent question in his mind for a moment before he comprehended it.

"Oh, why did I come here?" the small boy said, writing the sentence above the dragon's drabble. Toothless eyed it for a moment before looking forward again.

"I just thought, hey, it is dark and it's easy to die in the forest, so why not come here and spend the night here!" Hiccup said gleefully, and not noticing any reaction from the dragon he clapped his hands, "So... can I stay?" he asked and immediately felt incredibly stupid, querying about such a thing. Toothless was busy licking his nose with his forked tongue when he noticed the human looking at him with eager eyes and goofy smile.

Hiccup, uncertain of the meaning, took up the fish he dropped when the smacking activity took place and offered it to the dragon. Toothless looked at it with a snort, looking away.

"Oh, come on!" the youth yelled, bringing the fish closer to the Fury's closed mouth, "Please?" he said in high voice, making Toothless's ears fall. The black eyelid opened and looked at the silvery goodness. With a sigh, the dragon slowly took the food from Hiccup's palm and chewed it sluggishly.

The boy, sensing imminent victory, sat on his toes and drew a rune used by Toothless. For the first time since Hiccup had entered the cove, the jet-black dragon smiled with his toothy smirk. He stood up and mimicked the youth, adding a few movements afterwards. The dragon grunted to the boy and nodded with his head invitingly.

During a small part of the night, Hiccup managed to master the dragon greeting; at least a simpler version of it. After a couple of miserable fails, Toothless showed him the one where you circle right front paw three times to the right, just above the ground. It was simple and the dragon seemed to be satisfied with it, letting his ebony body drop to the soil. He heated up the stony lantern again with his azure fire.

Hiccup sat next to the dragon, taking off the protectors, enjoying the warmth and company. If not for his hurting body after the training, it would have been absolutely perfect. He had two days off from kill-the-dragon-filled activities and he would not have to chase again after a cross-dressed Gobber! Two full days of freedom! All he would do, would be resting and trying to help Toothless fly.

He glanced at the dragon, who opened his eyelid right at the boy's stare.

_How does he do that?_ Hiccup asked himself. He felt tired and sore; however, he wanted to use this time to learn more about the black and currently yawing dragon.

He withdrew his notebook and the bear pelt from the sack. He moved himself closer to the dragon's head. Toothless once again opened his eyes and upon seeing the notebook his attention rose together with his ears. One of them started to twitch in a way Hiccup thought was 'cute'. He never voiced his opinion, however, afraid of getting eaten by a dragon who might think the boy would look 'cute' without a head.

Cross-legged, Hiccup started teaching the inquisitive-looking dragon all the words and phrases, writing them in the earth. Toothless radiated a sense of thirst for knowledge, or perhaps, of every new thing as he crooned and sung in his draconic language occasionally.

There were no demands for the attentive Fury to repeat the runes after Hiccup since the boy was aware Toothless instantaneously memorised everything, or as the boy suspected, everything he chose was relevant. Hiccup throbbed in excitement, imagining the long conversations he would undergo with his fire-breathing friend, or so he silently hoped.

Both of them continued until the morning came and the boy's auburn head started to fall on his chest, until resigning to drowsiness, his eyes closed and the notebook feel on his laps, covered in the brought fur; the pencil was still held in the small hand, one finger bandaged.

* * *

Toothless let Hiccup's body drop on his side, leaning on it, accompanied by the human's quiet breathing. A bird chirped loudly from its nest, announcing its presence to the forest. It sung, looking around and when spotting the large green eyes looking at it, the blue-yellow bird flew away, fluttering.

The Fury had seen this bird before, the first time Scalgertar walked -or, to use a more proper term, _tripped_- inside.

However, this time Toothless did not look up at the bird in envy. With the boy by his side, the sky appeared closer to him than usual.

If there was anything that possessed more awesomeness than Toothless in Hiccup's humble opinion, it must have been observing Toothless training, or something that might have resembled it.

In other words, the Fury was performing graceful rolls in the air, somersaults, jumps, claw slashes and side tail swipes without apparent reason.

The boy, right after his awakening, bear fur covering him up to his neck, was lying on his elbow, jaw near the ground, trying to follow the dragon's lightning-fast movements.

To add an even larger sense of awe to this picture, the loudest sound that could be heard was the swooshing of the air as a dark, slender body bleared through it.

Hiccup tried not to breathe, or do anything that would have disturbed the dragon.

Toothless lowered his body and jumped, higher than the boy would have ever expected, rolling his body to the right. He landed lightly, soundlessly, as if the massive body was not a few centars of muscles, but air itself. The Fury was a wind, floating through the space with gracility and swiftness. Uncatchable, silent. Even the more deadly.

Every move was strong and forceful. No hesitation was shown, not any sign of prior thought. One followed the other with such quickness and rapidity, as if they had been practised for so long that the body was doing them on its own as if it were an inborn ability.

Or maybe it was that dragons were indeed born with agile bodies, unbelievably strong and powerful? Or did they have to train it, just as humans had to? It seemed a natural thing to do.

The dragon sprinted to the rock wall and bounced off it with a back somersault followed by another backward flip, the Fury's body coiled into a ball in the air.

The beast was standing with its back to Hiccup when the boy moved, making the fur whish.

Toothless's head positioned back, faster than the clumsy youth could blink. Hiccup stopped moving, suddenly paralyzed by fear: the gaze the dragon cast upon him was murderous, two tiny stripes instead of pupils locked on him.

The eyes were not filled with anger, Hiccup could not feel anything in them, only a deadly aura, invading his heart and mind. The boy could not move; staring back was the sole activity his body allowed, like a mouse staring back at snake, hypnotised before the jaws closed on its tiny body, crushing it.

Toothless closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, they were filled again with superior irksomeness and he was wearing a smirk on his muzzle. Hiccup started breathing again, fighting for air his lungs just had been deprived of.

_What was that_? Hiccup asked himself, suddenly feeling worn out although he had barely woken up.

Several sweat drops appeared on his forehead and he jerked when seeing the worried-looking head of Toothless. The dragon crooned questioningly.

"I-I am all right," the boy assured, taking long breaths, his heart beating with a frenzied tempo. He had rarely got scared to such extent. These eyes... they were not the ones one could see on a human or animal. There would always be some feeling in them, anything. These eyes were as nothingness, as if killing somebody required nothing more than a move of a razor-sharp claw. These eyes were hankering after death and destruction. They were too measured in it, looked much too experienced.

A soft touch on his head made Hiccup stop pursuing this line of thoughts. He was almost touching the dragon's nose, when the sudden awareness of how many scars he has on his fingers and palm stopped him from doing it. He was afraid of Toothless, of his long claws, of these jaws that could kill him in one lazy move. Those eyes made him remember how frail he was compared to the beast before him.

The dragon had closed his giant eyes, awaiting the touch with lips ends curled in a smile and waggling tail. Not receiving anything, Toothless slightly opened one eye to check on the human. His eyes narrowed, seeing the perplexed and fearful look on Hiccup's face.

"My hand!" the youth's scream could be heard all through the cove, seeing his limb posessed by Toothless's mouth again in another dragon's prank, "Don't eat it! Spit it! Spit it out! Stop making these innocent eyes you just have my hand in your mouth! I know you understand me! Don't even think about it! ...Hiccup no fly! ...Hiccup no like! That's right... just let me down, see it is not so-" a terrified yell followed, "Baaaad dragon!"

Hiccup emerged from the water, casted into it by the dragon's tail and laughed loudly. Playful attitude of the scaly creature made him relax more and forget about these dreadful eyes he had seen. He laughed louder as Toothless ran to the shore and in a mighty jump, plunged near Hiccup, wings and paws stretched out, tongue lolling, covering the boy with an enormous wave.

The boy gazed at the dragon, playing in the water, swimming and diving. Toothless was so similar to him. He might as well have things he wanted to hide and Hiccup was no longer so sure he really wanted to know all of them.

The gleefulness was still present in the youth's features when he ran out of the water, splashing loudly in the shallows; he then spotted the destroyed saddle he had left yesterday, lying with a tailfin on top. Small lines carved into the soil created the one word Hiccup had waited to see.

FLY

A shadow came above Hiccup, blending together with his own.

"You will fly again, Toothless!" the boy said excitedly; the Fury crooned with a nod and his ears perked up. Hiccup closed the space between himself and the dragon in less than a heartbeat and hugged Toothless's neck, feeling the wet skin on the side of his face, "Thank you," he whispered quietly, his voice dyed with happiness.

He let the dragon go and sprinted to the exit, quickly returning and grabbing away the saddle and tailfin with a huffed, "I forgot."

Hiccup could not hope for anything better. Toothless allowed him to proceed further, let him fly again. Let _them_ fly.

This was what he wanted. Not some attention for his achievements, but a chance to redeem his actions and let himself be true to his nature.

The saddle making took him most of the day. He returned to the cove late in the afternoon, carrying a large basket with the saddle, tailfin, rope, several tools, oil for his burns and anything he managed to grab, fish included. The smelly food was hanging in a net from his hand. He had to stop on his way no more than a couple of times: the idea of flying with the dragon was giving him more strength than through his whole life.

He was so close now and only death would stop him at this stage. He reminded himself of this thought when, stepping sloppily on the rock, he fell on the planted ground, another rock right next to his head. He then corrected the thought to: "Let's be as careful as possible since dying when being so close would be downright stupid."

The dragon greeted him with a flick of his tail, not changing his position from the horizontal, lying on his favourite rock on the pool's shore, catching the last rays of the sun now disappearing in the tree crowns.

Hiccup caught his breath drinking from a bota and helping himself with a smoked fish, trying to imitate the Fury. Toothless was less than interested in eating, masticating the fish and briefly looking at the device the human would use to sit on him.

"I am nervous as well, Toothless," the boy said honestly, not feeling like eating more of the smoke-smelling goodness. The dragon snorted with dignity and started eating ferociously, packing several fish inside in one go, as if to prove how the human was wrong.

"Well then," the youth clapped his hands, trying to relax the atmosphere, "Shall we start?" he asked, looking at Toothless for any sign of agreement. The Fury rose from not even half-way finished small pile of fish, trying to look as dignified and proud as was possible for a dragon who was about to be ridden by one ten times smaller and many more times weaker.

The massive body positioned in front of Hiccup, and sided with him, unnaturally tense and unmoving.

The saddle was a replica of the destroyed one, almost identical to its precursor, all black. Hiccup had used the other saddle he took from the smithy and replaced the leather with the one bought yesterday. Some parts, he had merely been able to cover in black pelt, afraid of destroying the design. Saddle-making was not his strong point and books could only help to some extent. Asking Gobber about it, without anything saddles could be used for, aside from one angry Night Fury in the forest, was an idea he did not want to try.

This saddle was sloppy work and one he was completely unsatisfied with, but this would have to suffice. His only hope was not to make this saddle end like the previous one.

Toothless was amazingly obedient, letting the tailfin be attached and then raising his front paws for the saddle-rings to be put on.

The motionless Fury betrayed his feelings when Hiccup tried to buckle the leather belt across the dragon's broad chest. The muscular legs stirred in place uneasily and then tranquillised. The boy saw the dropped ear-antennas and a quiet sound which could only be identified as a whine caused him to apologise repeatedly and quicken his doings.

It must have been a further loss of freedom and independence for Toothless, if such occurrence was even possible.

He strapped the belt, strongly stretching the leather for a secure fit.

"Is it not too tight?" Hiccup asked and the dragon grunted in answer and nodded his head. The boy approached Toothless's side and looked at the stirrup, jingling quietly as it dangled at the height of his abdomen.

Hiccup was nervous; he never had any experience at riding anything, not even his father shoulders and he was pondering how to actually get on the creature's back. The Fury's vicious growl surely helped him make his decision and before he knew it, he was atop.

It might not have been high, but it was still scary having a heavy mass of pure power, speed and destruction behind you.

"L-let's try it slow," the boy proposed and Toothless moved forward. The powerful body moved in calm undisturbed movements. Hiccup soon discovered that nervously clutching the saddle was not required: the dragon moved as lightly as the ground did not exist beneath them, there were no shakes that would launch the youth off the saddle. The boy had troubles identifying if he was still riding, or was floating above the ground. He could take a glimpse of the front legs blinking back and forth in smooth motions.

"Faster!" Hiccup said, leaning and immediately, the air started swooshing on his face and his hair left off his forehead. He really was floating, flying above the ground faster than he ever dreamed of. Toothless turned gently, making another round, his legs thudding. The boy adjusted, leaning left on the saddle, enjoying the air breaking on his face.

The excited boy shouted again to hasten the dragon. Toothless did not need to be told twice. At full speed, the world lost its acuteness and the wind howled in Hiccup's ears. With narrowed eyes, he let the Fury gallop. Raiding on the dragon was as easy as breathing.

Hiccup was scared to death, speeding through the cove on the most dangerous dragon known to Vikings with the speed of an arrow where one mistake would surely mean his death. He was terrified, and he had the best time of his life.

"Yeah!" he yelled, raising his fist, unbound happiness bursting in his body, and Toothless repeated, roaring loudly, adding another adrenaline surge into the boy's veins.

They cruised through the cove?, until Hiccup asked to stop. Apparently, it was more tiring for him than for the dragon that did not look like he had just ran a distance comparable to taking a circle around the island with an attached ballast. A tiny, screaming ballast.

Another enterprise was how to make the creature airborne again. He would not be Hiccup if he had not had already several ideas in his mind. He took the rope and attached it to the end of the artificial tail-fin and used his dagger to cut it to the appropriate length; Toothless, to Hiccup's relief considered the weapon with a tedious expression.

In simple words and with the help of his notebook, the boy drew a small illustration about the next step. He wanted to use the high rock, the one the Fury used to observe him when they first met face-to-muzzle, and soar from it above the water which hopefully would absorb all the falls.

Taking a rope into his hand, he climbed up the dragon again and pointed to the formation's flat top. Hiccup had to grab the dragon's neck tightly when he leaped in short jumps from one rock to another to reach the destination.

Grabbing the rope tighter, Hiccup pulled it, opening the device. Trying not to think how high it was and that from their position to the water was a long way of solid ground, he took a breath and on a short, "Let's go,", Toothless opened his wings making the nervous youth amazed once again at how large they were, as he leaned slowly forward. Hiccup was inwardly thankful of how slowly the dragon decided to jump from the height -perhaps considering the boy's feelings and most probably also being scared himself.

Hiccup was pressed sharply to the saddle and they already soared. He gasped enjoying the sensation and that feeling of freedom.

What he enjoyed a moment later though, was a sudden decline, Toothless's surprised howl and the dragon's paws trashing loudly on the ground, absorbing most of the impact's energy. That did not keep, however, the inattentive youth from striking the back of Toothless's raised head with his chest.

He forgot to keep the rope taut which resulted in the tail-fin closing.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his stricken chest. The dragon eyed him for a moment and snorted. Without waiting for Hiccup's signal, he ran to the rock and leaped on top again and took the starting positions with unfolded wings.

Hiccup opened the contraption and they flew, slow and straight, descending gradually right into the middle of the pond.

"Yes! We flew Toothless! We flew!" the boy whooped, his boots submerged in the water together with most of the Fury's sleek body.

Hiccup wanted to entertain himself with a moment of thinking of how awesome he was, but the dragon had different plans. With a strong tail thrust, Toothless hurtled to the tall rock to experience the moment of flying again. Hiccup took off his vest and chucked it down, carelessly. The fewer things he would have to dry later, the better.

They repeated jump-and-soar activity a couple of times more. Hiccup was yelling enthusiastically every time they lost contact with the ground and had a short time in the air. The boy felt extremely happy and was sure Toothless was enjoying it as much as he had.

* * *

Toothless was feeling miserable. He flew again, that was a thing that might have been counted as a progress. With the speed of a sleeping Crunch Munch.

_Kendan Monar_, he corrected himself. The Shielded Heart. He would have to stop using IT's namings.

The Sleeping Monar had this property about itself, that it did not move from the spot it slept on. In flying. It slept while flying and did not move from the spot above the ground.

All these thoughts Toothless managed to compile when gliding, once again, towards their wet destination. The pleasant experience was completely shattered by a squirming, yelling, laughing and doing-everything-to-make-you-feel-worse-than-you-already-do, Hiccup. After the ninth time of being treated like a kid's attraction, the scaled creature sighed, and with stoic calmness, made a barrel roll above the water, making triple sure his passenger would go down head first.

_Much better_, Toothless thought, floating on his back, enjoying the moment of quietness, seeming not to notice the bubbles of air coming from beneath him. Hiccup emerged coughing and fighting for air. His brave struggles ended as the Fury caught his head in his mouth and swam towards the shore to take the Scalgertar out of the water. Toothless was such an altruist sometimes.

_Tastes like chicken!_ The dragon thought with a smug smirk, using one of the words the pup had taught him.

He let Hiccup go to the shore's sand. The boy first shouted something about remembering him and marking -he probably wanted to mark his territory. Then he showed something with his hands as if trying to break something, then noticing a small branch which would demonstrate his elevating idea more, he showed it to the dragon and tried to break it. Needless to say, branch did not break. Scalgertar roared in his high voice and pointed his claw, -finger, at Toothless

_Just a little more_, he reasoned, eyes drifting at the sky while the boy tried to pull his hand out from between his jaws.

With the sun rising, the day became perhaps one of the warmest sun cycles... -days, of the season change... -years. Enough for the pup to continue their flying, still from atop of the rock, but without involving water anymore. Hiccup was busy observing the tail-thing, his concentration and determination overshadowing the previous gleefulness.

This helped Toothless to stop perturbing about being ridden or about the success of the whole crazy endeavour.

The dragon followed Scalgertar's voice, allowing the boy to think and come with another wonderful idea. Hiccup had something in him that made you believe in him. This was how the dragon preferred his clanmate, focused and with eyes flaming with unbreakable resolution. That nearly impalpable weight on his back began to feel assuring, even if only a tiny bit.

Hiccup changed the rope attachment, from paw... -hand to his -leg, trying to manipulate it further and see how this affected the flying pattern. It did affect the flying significantly, as,upon one of the accidental forceful pulls of the rope, Toothless turned left with a shriek of surprise and Hiccup's body decided to stay in place. It was a relief to the dragon that they were again experimenting above the water. Much less of a chance for the scrawny element of their duo to break his neck.

Their tests continued until the soaked Fury refused to do anything else with his equally wet baggage until Hiccup decided to warm himself and cease trembling and clattering with his teeth. After a few human grumbles, the boy decided to follow the dragon's silent insinuation, that there would be no more flying, unless the pup had a way to fly on his own.

The boy took off all his clothes again, putting them on a stick by the stone and stood in front of it.

Toothless had a much faster way to dry himself. He streamed his electric blue flame over every part of his body he could reach. After a moment of the treatment the only thing remaining was a steaming dragon. The Fury enjoyed it, the flame was always leaving his skin smooth and clean. It also had a few health-related reasons. Fire killed all parasites, hardened the scales and burned out all the dead epidermis.

Toothless liked to smell like himself, not like a mixture of dirt and food... -fish. It was commonly practised for the dragons to clean themselves with fire. Strong smell was disturbing and having a stinking individual in a cave was suffocating.

That said, the boy needed to clean himself as well. As strong as the smell of his body was, due to some liquid human body produced, it was not alarming. That gave Toothless an idea. He lay behind the human and gestured with his muzzle for him to lie by his side. The boy, who had observed him flaming his body with an amazed expression (the dragon took it with superior, bored acceptance. He _was_ amazing after all), sat as expected at the dragon's side with a happy expression.

Toothless's tail shot out and pinned Hiccup on his stomach, precluding Scalgertar from escaping the terrifying, massive tongue attack the dragon commenced.

_Resistance is futile_! The Fury thought, letting his smooth tongue run on the boy's scarred back. There was a better reason for this than to clean the boy. Toothless's tongue, as every dragon's, was capable of 'tasting' the temperature. A very useful skill. With a bit of mind-training, dragons could visualise the temperature in many colours in their mind depending on the amount of heat the object produced. Besides being used for tracking, hunting and fighting, this entailed one more quality. It enabled to see inside the body and check if there was everything wrong with it. Any anomaly could be seen and correctly visualised to mind-heal later on. This is how Toothless was learning how to correctly imagine the inside of his body for healing. Without it, using energy to heal would be as blindly shooting firebolts, hoping to hit something**.**

The dragon closed his eyes and moved his forked tongue on, now still and waiting for the inevitable, Scalgertar's right shoulder blade, moving down.

The revue of colours poured out, first as a vast sea of blue. Soon, he was able to colourise the tissues, bones and muscles in different ways, thus easing his own observation. Blood pulsated in red, moving together with the heart's steady and strong rhythm, orange muscles relaxed and twitched occasionally beneath his tongue's touch, seeing them contracting and expanding. The white bones supported them, fulfilling the harmonious and marvellous picture. The green nerves pulsated in cascades as energy transferred through them, making the whole view glitter like stars in a cloudless night. He could see the light grey scar tissue penetrating the skin in its maimed and irregular fashion, decomposing from the fitting setting.

The left side of Scalgertar's back (right if looking from the front), was fine. He moved to the left, going through the spine; Hiccup laughed a few times for some reason, while he tried not to omit to search for the reason why the left lung was not able to expand. He did not need to look for long.

Toothless gagged strongly and his eyes snapped open, breathing out and trying to get rid of the foul taste from his tongue and horrifying picture from his head.

"Toothless?" Scalgertar queried, looking worriedly at the dragon. The ebony muzzle brightened with a gummy smile, to show the human it was nothing to be afraid of, in spite of the fact it was something to be scared about. The pup, unconvinced, reluctantly turned away. The Fury learned by mimicking; and having Hiccup as an example was not a good learning material for acting.

The distressed dragon calmed himself and pressed his tongue against the depression in the pup's back. The tissue beneath the skin was black. It was dead and judging from the look of it, it had been dead for a very long time. The skin in this place tasted as decomposing meat. The sweat must have carried out the toxins beneath. Toothless pressed his nose against the skin and breathed deeply, it was rotten from the infection. The dragon had not been able not detect it before because of the absent sweat which made the scent detectable.

Besides obviously deeply burned skin, the scar tissue went deeper as if something had caused the surrounding muscles to die, creating a bulb of necrotic tissue. There were no blood vessels around it, the ones nearby were scarred as well and from what Toothless had seen, the human body was unable to regenerate cardiovascular elements of the organism. A dragon's body could recreate almost everything. Some species could even regrow limbs but Toothless was not included in the group.

There was also no energy from the nerves to be felt in the skin. That area was insensible. To ascertain this, Toothless carefully, not to be noticed by the unsuspecting boy, nipped the skin. As he suspected, no reaction came from the bony clanmate. The inquisitive Fury fully bit the skin this time, drawing a bit of blood mixed with pus. The dragon tried not to vomit at the feel of the stench and savour.

He was doing it for Hiccup, trying to help him. That thing had an obvious impact on the boy's health With mind-suppression it went more smoothly. The licking part. And there was much more of that vomit-inducing goodness to come. At that merry thought, Toothless body moved uneasily.

Hiccup noticed something unusual in the dragon's behaviour and asked if he could leave. The dragon thought about putting the small human specimen unconscious so he could treat the anomaly in peace. He lifted his tail, not wanting to put up against the boy's wishes.

He would _not_ violate his trust and privacy by hitting him in the neck, right between the second and third vertebra. Hiccup stood up and stretched, a small line of blood running from his back and reaching his bottom now.

Toothless sprung to his paws. Before Hiccup was even able to deduce what that red and liquid something was doing on his buttock, the soft part of the Fury's front paw struck him fluidly in the neck. Right between the second and third vertebra.

The limp boy's body started falling forward, and was caught by a black tail with a rope dangling loosely from its tip.

"_Fúin enlea..." _Toothless growled softly, more out of a habit than from actual feeling. The most fitting euphemistic translation of this in such circumstances would be, "Whoops."

With a tired sigh, he trotted to the pelt Scalgertar used to cover himself. He put the human down carefully with his back up. His sister and mother used to lick his wounds as well, so he could do the same for the boy. Toothless was a clan leader and he had to look after the youngling, it was his responsibility.

With the thought that, the faster it would be done, the less pain it would cost him, he looked at the claws on his right front paw and flexed the muscle. A small, almost pellucid strip appeared at the bottom, coming out of the tiny line inside the claw. This was responsible for the deadly sharpness of that natural weapon and was only used in case of emergency so a dragon would not cut his playmate into slices for example.

The Fury thoroughly worked his tongue on Hiccup's wounds, getting rid of the dried blood as well, gagging occasionally, then flamed a claw on his forepaw, and looked as the air waved turbulently around it. Having as sensitive nose as his was a curse in this occasion. Toothless thought in disgust about how some dragons could be able to relish rotting meat instead of fresh game.

The claw was not burning hot anymore. It was time to do what had to be done. Inhibiting the vomiting reflex, the Fury concentrated and made a simple, small, but deep incision to reach the infected place. The claw dug into the flesh without resistance, which made Toothless forget his worries about the odour and proceed further.

Almost immediately, the suppuration squirted from the cut, the white drops reaching the dragon's muzzle. How could this human have lived for so long with such a thing in his body?

It was a gigantic mass of dead meat, infecting the whole body. The boy had had in the past many health problems resulting from this. Not only was it hindering, now, the boy from using his lungs at their full capacity, but it was also limiting his endurance.

Toothless did not know any more entailments the bulb might have had, but he was sure there were more. The cut part of the skin depressed even further as the pressure inside was released and the pus poured out. The Fury knew the next part. Suck out everything from the inside, clean it as much as possible and treat with resin.

Hiccup breathed deeply, his lung working soundly.

Toothless almost never helped anyone, only 'helped' others part with their lives. Seeing the hopeless and fragile body beneath him made him feel proud. Not of himself, but of the boy. A small spark of pride with a feeling of warmness grew in his stomach together with a strong desire to protect the pup.

Helping felt good, and that feeling remained intact during and after Toothless's procedure.

* * *

It was so warm. A kind type of warmness. Hiccup saw a hand smoothing his hair, smaller than his father's and bigger than his. He only saw a hand, lying in his bed and feeling the hand make his fears go away. It was all he ever needed, this hand. And the voice. Shattering his will and adding hope to everything. The voice sung an old melody he thought he had forgotten, with such a beautiful voice. One he had heard so many times.

_Why did you forget Hiccup?_

He wanted to open his eyes, but the voice continued singing and he fell into himself as he did every time the voice sung.

The sky is dark and the hills are white  
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;  
And this is the song the storm-king sings,  
As over the world his cloak he flings:  
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"  
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:  
"Sleep, little one, sleep."

He almost did not feel the kind hand's brushing his forehead.

On yonder mountain-side a vine  
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;  
The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
And only the vine can hear her sing:  
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
What shall you fear when I am here?  
Sleep, little one, sleep."

He did not have anything to fear. He was safe, although the voice was starting to get muffled by the human cries and screams and the clang of weapons. The fire was starting to fill his lungs and choking him. He squirmed, trying to shout for help.

_Why did you forget Hiccup?_

The sounds of battle strengthened, overpowering the voice and the hand's touch disappeared. There was one more verse to the song, he wanted to remember it! The sounds of fire joined and soon they were the loudest of all, surrounding him. Something was on fire? He wanted to open his eyes. He was suffocating, fighting unavailingly for a few last breaths. Now he understood, he was the one on fire! It hurt! Make it stop! With inhumane effort he opened his eyes only to see a wall of fire storming towards him to annihilate his body.

**_Why did you forget about me!_**

Hiccup's eyes opened again, and he breathed fresh air heavily scented with resin. Real air. Everything was dark. He tried moving his hand and he felt rough and scaled skin beneath his fingers. He felt the sweat on his shuddering body and the scream dying in his throat. He did not shiver from the cold, he was warm in the same way he had been in this dream he remembered too vividly. How he ended by Toothless's side with his bear fur beneath and his back hurting in numb pain did not matter. He did not stand up or answer the worried crooning of the dragon.

Not until a few involuntary tears escaped his eyes and splashed on Toothless's warm side.

Hiccup wiped off the remaining wetness from his eyes with a stroke of his hands; the numbness of his back intensified. He turned his head at the sides, trying to get rid of the pain at the back of his neck. The last thing he remembered was feeling something sticky and wet on his hips.

"I am all right, Toothless," he reassured in a weak voice, feeling thirsty and hungry. He dressed, feeling a sudden lightness to his body, sensing also the strange disappearance of his constant tiredness. Using his hands to drink from the pond he only saw the outlines of his reflected face.

He returned to the still glowing rock; it had to be maintained by Toothless not to lose its heat and light. Hiccup remembered then that the stone was also warm when he woke up. This improved his mood, giving him a sense of certainty that somebody was looking out for him. He petted the lying Fury's head, smiling weakly, and the pale yellow light glowing behind him gave more details on the dragon's muzzle than the daylight. Toothless looked at him with a listless body and groaned miserably.

"What's wrong?" Hiccup asked, noticing the unnaturally limp dragon's body, "It must have been something you ate," the boy stated, putting his hand beneath his chin, "It must have been today's fish. It was the one marinated in vinegar... it looked all right, but maybe dragons do not react well to vinegar? It was all white and smelly," he mused, not noticing the dragon gagging convulsively at the words, 'white' and 'smelly', "Or maybe the ones from before... I noticed some of them were slimy as if they were about to turn into some sort of goey mass," he shuddered with distaste.

Toothless could not hold any longer the image of what his mouth was sucking out so jauntily evoked by the boy... He jumped to his paws, sprinted to the nearest tree and let his feelings out, together with his previous meal. And the one before it.

Hiccup cringed at the sight. Something definitely must have had a bad effect on the Fury's stomach. The boy vowed to check the food more carefully henceforth.

Having finished, the dragon looked down hatefully at the mess beneath him and burned it all down until only the char remained. His front paws swiftly covered the burned pile with soil and he snorted. After satisfying his hateful desire, the dragon quenched from the pond and then cleared his throat by casting a flame into the sky.

Hiccup had enough of watching the Fury taking care of his stomach problem in such picturesque way. He moved and felt with his hand movements a small resistance the skin on his back gave him. He was aware of the unnatural sense to his body and the situation he found himself in since he had woken up. It was a good moment to address a few questions.

"What is on my back?" the boy said, reaching on his back and feeling a sticky fluid, "...Toothless?" he added at the not responding dragon. The Fury walked to the youth and sat in front of him, looking straight into his eyes.

"It was you wasn't it?" Hiccup asked rhetorically. **"**_You_ knocked me out, didn't you**?" **Saying he was not afraid would have been lying to himself, "What did you do?" he coughed up, attempting to sound calm. Losing consciousness because of the dragon must have had serious reasons to it. Toothless, with his usual uninterested stare scribbled.

YOU HURT

"I am aware of that fact...," the youth said, stretching his left hand to reach the right shoulder," if I can sense with my hand properly, I have a large cut on my back and the funny thing is, I do not feel any pain," Hiccup said dryly, trying to evaluate further the injury with his fingers. Toothless growled and wrote quickly.

NO TOUCH

"Why not?" Hiccup queried, a hard look on his face, "I was attacked and I had a part of my body clawed out! " The boy started raising his voice, understanding the seriousness of situation. The usual depression in his back was larger than before. He almost did not feel any pain. It was spooky at the least.

The only pain he felt was from the feeling of betrayal, but since when did they _really_ trust each other?

Toothless growled again, showing his ivory teeth and wrote again.

YOU HURT

The boy took a moment to read the reversed letters, "What do you mean?" Hiccup finally questioned, a cold sweat covering his forehead, sensing more meaning to the dragon's words. If a Night Fury was writing to you at night, using human words after it incapacitated you and did something to your body, that meant there was something wrong with you.

Toothless' ear-antenna twitched and after a prolonged pause, he created more runes in front of him.

YOU FILLED WITH BAD I TAKE AWAY BAD YOU BETTER IT IS FOR YOU

The Fury studied the boy carefully with what could be seen as concern and added:

YOU BETTER HICCUP?

The boy's throat jammed. The fact that the dragon cared about him and helped him, or so Toothless stated, was enough to make him overjoyed and ask himself, 'why?'. He did not deserve any help from the beast. Dragons were capable of helping. They were intelligent and emotional. How much wronger could the Vikings be about them?

Toothless swiped the ground with a paw and wrote sloppily.

WHY YOU SAD?

Hiccup's heart skipped a beat. It was too unexpected to see somebody inquire about such a thing. Nobody had ever asked him about his feelings. It made him forget immediately about the dragon's sneaky little procedure.

"I-I do not know what you mean," he lied, looking away. Toothless huffed with disdain marking the ground with new runes.

YOU SCREAM WHEN SLEEP MAKE FACE WHEN HUMAN SAD YOU

The Fury's ear-antenna twitched as he pondered the proper word.

HUMAN CRY HUMAN SAD

Hiccup's face burned. He should not have told and drawn about human emotions. It was both embarrassing, confusing but strangely also a desirable feeling to the youth. Experience attention, but not from the others, not the one tainted with shallowness in the name of something he hated.

Toothless was giving him the attention he realised he wanted. Honest, simple interest pouring out from the heart. This dragon was scarily similar to the human. Hiccup wanted exactly that and he absorbed it as a wilted desert flower would.

WHY YOU SAD HICCUP?

"I-I am not sad," the teen blurted out hastily. Toothless looked into his eyes, his pupils boring into Hiccup's soul.

The boy was not ready for such a talk; it felt wrong to tell the very dragon you had crippled about the worries of your life. Hiccup did not feel he was ready for such a conversation with anyone. It was his inner struggle and he would never involve anyone in it, never. As if reading the boy's mind, the ebony dragon with passes of blueness on its hide, snorted and lay down by the fire-stone, not indicating any signs of further interest in the topic.

The boy sat and the two beings remained quiet as the slowly dying down glow measured the passing time. On the small, visible part of the sky, a few falling stars zoomed through, their white tails visible before they disappeared.

Hiccup outstretched his hand to the indigo extending above him. The dragon tilted his head and observed the unusual behaviour of his companion. The boy closed his palm with a smile, looking at Toothless.

WHAT THAT?

The dragon wrote, his eyes big and pupils dilated, shining with curiosity. It was time for Hiccup to try and find a proper word.

"Oh, that? It's...um, a star, dream, goal, something you want to happen! Something you want to catch! Ah, that sounds stupid," he said louder, rubbing his head. Toothless put a toothy smirk on his muzzle and wrote.

DRAGONS WANT TOO

YOU WANT CATCH YOUR STAR?

The dark dragon asked.

"It is too high for me to reach it, Toothless. I am too small to reach it," the boy said, his green eyes filled with melancholy. The dragon gave out a tired sigh, gazed once more at the sky and then at the boy looking at it. The Fury destroyed the previous writings and scribbled.

I BRING YOU STAR HICCUP

Hiccup snorted, mimicking the dragon, "Well, that's a good joke, Toothless, but you just can't bring a star..." he could not continue as he stopped thinking altogether, gaping with astonishment at the blue lightness in front of him, "... here," he croaked.

From Toothless's raised mouth a small ball of light emerged, as bright and blue as the dragon's fire. It hovered above the black head and then slowly descended, gliding, to the boy. Hiccup's face lightened with the pale cobalt blue light.

Hiccup stared, astonished, at the small sphere. It was indeed a sphere and inside there was fire. No, it was not fire, these were lightnings. An uncountable amount of small discharges, surging and swirling inside, pulsating faster than the human's eye could catch. The boy's hand raised automatically, his mouth open. The beauty of it was calling to him, he wanted to catch it. His finger almost reached what seemed to be a translucent border separating the electric fire from the world.

The ball zoomed out of his reach in a quick movement and then stilled in front of him. Hiccup reached again, leaning forward and supporting himself with one hand. The lightning globe soared away again. The boy looked at Toothless and the dragon nodded, looking amused.

Hiccup stood and made a fast step forward. The bright sphere escaped again. The teen ran after it, not knowing when he had started smiling or laughing. He would catch this fire, he would catch his star.

He sprinted through the cove, jumping and falling, for a long time, the thought of giving up never crossing his mind. He heaved and sweated, focused on the star before him. Toothless brought him a wish, a gift he would not squander. His wish was for the dragon to fly! With a yell, he sprang forward, palm opened and eyes feverish. He flew above the ground, reaching the ball. For a longer time than he wished, he saw his palm close around the sphere and he dropped down. His head jumped up and he saw the light-blue lightness soak through his clenched fingers.

_I did it! I really did it_! he thought; he opened his palm slowly and saw the globe in his hand, even more astonishing than before, tickling his skin, as warm as Toothless. He was able to see it for a split moment before it flared and disappeared, leaving only a sparkling dust in the air.

He closed to the Fury with a wide grin. The dragon had not let him out of his sight through all the chase. Toothless pointed at the words before him. Hiccup was sure these were not written when he just walked back to the dragon, they must have been written before, as he was pursuing the star.

YOU CAUGHT STAR HICCUP YOU NOT SMALL

Hiccup could not think of any words of gratitude to tell the dragon. The Fury looked at his face, a confused expression appearing.

WHY YOU CRY HICCUP?

"Because I am happy," the boy answered. Nobody had ever done something like this to him. He felt so special.

Toothless snorted and rolled his eyes.

WEIRD

Hiccup laughed and said from the spot he stood on, "Thank you for bringing me a star, Toothless," he told the dragon," So, see you later?"

A lazy flick of the tail answered him. He did not need any more encouragement. He was not small, he was not useless.

Quickly, he gathered his items and closed them in the basket he had hidden under a tree. After that, he circled with his right hand three times and left the cove, his mind filled with images he would never forget.

The woods were starting to brighten with the appearing sun. Hiccup walked and sung in a clear voice.

On yonder mountain-side a vine  
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;  
The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
And only the vine can hear her sing:  
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
What shall you fear when I am here?  
Sleep, little one, sleep."

...Without a pause, he finished the song.

The king may sing in his bitter flight,  
The tree may croon to the vine tonight,  
But the little snowflake at my breast  
Liketh the song I sing the best,  
Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
Weary thou art, anext my heart  
Sleep, little one, sleep.

He remembered. He did not forget. One day he would remember more than a gentle hand and a soothing voice. He was not alone anymore and with somebody at your side, even the stars were within hand's reach.

* * *

**Silly story time.** Today I will portray nobody else than our favourite SLASHER. To show my _deepest_, yes a very deeply placed, respect I decided to slash Hiccup with... a...

CACTUS (I know- it's not what you were expecting, but this is what slash is about- those unexpected, wonderful possibilities of sick lust true love and devotion.)

(Hiccup's POV- just so in case you could not figure it out)

I found him in the forest. I trapped him as he tried to ran away. Not like plants could run really fast, but it did not matter. It was the most deadly of all cactuses. Why it was deadly you might ask? It had a deadly fire. Nobody had ever seen any cactus breathe out fire... but the fear remains! It was... (Insert terrorising triangle music) The Niggly Furrow.

We created an unique friendship, forbidden you might say! Soon we ran together on the beach, me holding the cactus by its... whatever you call it, the sun disappearing slowly in the horizon. I remember my radiant smile and loud laugh as I splashed the ocean's waves. It was always disturbed by one of the cactus needles running through my hand.

It did not matter! I felt something for him, her... I forgot to check if plants have gender but it did not matter! Nothing mattered, only this lustful desire as the black cactus with white needles stood in the kitchen. It always stood, beautifully maintaining the pose it always had. Why did I want it? I had no idea, as if some perverted, insane hand was guiding me.

It was time for the DRAMATIC CONFRONTATION (Insert triangle music Solo).

"I-I need to tell you something," I stuttered, my face blushing**,** and I grabbed the material of my tunic nervously.

The cactus stood and did not answer.

It never answered**, **and it only made me want it more, I loved the silent type.

"It does not matter than you are a plant and I am a human...love does not have boundaries. The way your long needles stand out from your black, strongly cuticulised epidermis has always made me want you! Enough of this pretence! I want you**,** my unnamed, weird flower ...or whatever you are called!"

THE NEXT SCENE WAS CENSORED, THE SENSUAL TRIANGLE MUSIC WILL DESCRIBE THIS SCENE FOR US. CHILDREN COVER YOUR EARS.

(Sensual Triangle Music)

The next day Stoick discovered his son dead. Hiccup had bled to death because of too many holes in a certain place on his body.

Moral? Remember to use metal condoms when getting into a closer relationship with your cactus. Always practise safe slash-sex!

The end.

Tune in next time for our next installment**,** where Hiccup slashes with a mortar and pestle. That two timer!

Also known as... Morpestcup

* * *

AN: Seriously now, the beautiful song-poem I selfishly used in my story is the creation of Eugene Field. It is called "Norse Lullaby". Since it was created more than 100 years ago, it is considered public domain, and I could use the content freely.

Quote:

"Songfics

In 2005, banned songfics from being posted, due to potential legal action from copyright holders of lyrics. Public domain lyrics, such as those to "Amazing Grace," or lyrics written by the author of the fan fiction are not directly addressed."

End of quote.

The quote is from Wikipedia. The songfic writers got something to consider, or not.

As usual, I would be happy to read your comments, critique or opinions.


	20. Eye Contact

**A/N:** Another chapter...yay.

* * *

A bone easily broke between his teeth, while he separated the meat from the skeleton, trying to satisfy his hunger.

He packed another chicken leg into his mouth and, barely chewing, he swallowed, resembling a dragon with his table manners. Vikings had none, besides burping after the meal to show respect for the woman who prepared it.

Hiccup did not remember ever feeling so hungry in his life. He never ate much and he could always keep his hunger in control. However, there was no way of controlling what he now felt. It attacked him as a hawk, awaiting its chance to strike at the best moment, when the prey was most vulnerable.

The boy had tried to stop the bleeding from the gash Toothless, for some reason, had gifted him with. Hiccup trusted the dragon and not a single thought crossed his mind considering a scenario where Toothless might hurt him. The snarky quadruped had also 'treated' it with resin, some common, natural juice from a tree. Hiccup had been in touch with every medical innovation for quite a long time through his childhood, being a tester for every ointment and balsam present, until he managed to break free from the healer's clutches and take care of himself. He had never heard of using resin as a wound dressing. It certainly worked well; the gash would have to be stitched, from what Hiccup observed when looking at the reflection of his back in the mirror, but the substance kept it from bleeding. That was, until the boy had thought of something insanely stupid and irrational. He tried to clean himself. Not in the ordinary way, simply using a bit of water, a piece of soft material and a chunk of soap. No. He wanted to use the sauna. Hiccup cleaned himself as he had intended. However, he found out a few things. First: resin does not agree with high temperatures; lots of human sweat and water have a nasty habit of making it detatch itself. Second: to detect bleeding from a now uncovered wound, it would be better to have the wounded area actually _feel_ something. Third, nothing made you hungrier than being drilled by a dragon followed by a 'relaxing' session in the sauna.

The summary of all that was that now he sat in the Mead Hall, trying to devour as much as possible in spite of his clumsily treated wound, before he would go visit the Healer to fix the injury in a proper, 'human' way. He hurt himself a lot, therefore it would not be anything extraordinary for him to ask to be stitched up.

Another chicken leg disappeared in the youth's mouth , and the stripped bone piece launched out of his mouth as quickly as it had entered. Its siblings were already piling on two dishes placed on the table. Bertha, the Mead Hall Keeper, offered him as many helpings as he wanted, to his mild surprise. He was the village sensation, nowadays.

Otherwise, it was early in the morning, and the fishermen were already gathering in the Hall, all talking loudly about the newest gossip the world had to offer.

Hiccup tried to sit as far as possible from the others, yet he heard phrases like ,"Toothpick? It cannot be!", and "There might b' some use fo' th' boy after all!"

People were polite to him, and he returned the deportment in the best way he could. It was a change for the better, no matter how he looked at it. He figured it would take just a few more fights and he would then be the first to drop out of the challenge, to his happiness. One big happy ending.

_And what then?_

The question had been echoing in his mind since he shot down the Night Fury. Every step required him to answer '_what then_', followed by '_, what next_'. His growing attachment to the dragon made him feel less and less able to understand his society and culture. Trying to find excuses for this feeling was not sufficient anymore. Toothless had showed him how dragons really were. Heck, he barely knew _anything_ about dragons and yet, what little he had learned had made him start feeling reproachful towards all these faces surrounding him, smiling at the thought of killing yet another dragon.

Dragons were sentient, just as humans were!

He wanted to scream at these morons who were currently discussing how Hiccup would kill his first dragon, just how wrong they were, just how much their Viking over-confidence clouded their vision. They were blind! Running around, trapped, in circles and not even having a shred of curiosity to break free.

Hiccup let out a silent breath and relaxed his hands, which had curled themselves into fists.

How he despised that part of himself: these emotional thoughts he could not help creating, taking away his logic in a hurricane of feelings.

His people did not want to know any other way, desiring only to kill dragons. Hiccup used to be exactly the same- even worse, a useless fanatic driven by this shallow desire to prove himself. These men and women fought to keep their lives together and see their families and friends alive after another dragon attack. They laughed so often because this was Berk. You laughed as often as you could at life, because death might take you anytime. And you hated the dragons: their fire and disgusting bodies. Hel's abominations. Hiccup had believed that, as well. How could he blame his people?

His people did not want to see more because their eyes were focused on their families and friends. On this small island, everybody was a family, nothing brought people closer than a sense of danger. It was the war that changed people, corrupted their minds and way of life. Or were these dragons to blame?

Sometimes, though, he felt he felt he was being childish, packing all Vikings into one easy box. And that was not right, either.

_Shit, again_, he thought, putting a hand on his forehead. Sometimes he _really _wished he could stop thinking, if only for just for a moment.

"May I sit here?" a smooth, gentle and feminine voice asked.

Hiccup looked up. His eyes widened and his heart beat faster, but the glee disappeared as, out of the side of his eyes, he saw Fleshpetal taking a mug and engaging conversation with a group of Vikings. They welcomed him boomingly.

"Sure," he stated to Astrid, hoping his short words wouldn't betray the bitterness he felt. The girl sat in front of him with a bowl of vegetable stew and half a loaf of bread. She looked worn out and ragged. She must have been training. And Hiccup would have bet his favourite blacksmith hammer he could guess with whom she had had the pleasure of practising.

They ate in silence; Hiccup slowed his pace, not feeling hungry anymore. He only remained there to enjoy Astrid's presence. This was how it used to happen previously, in old times. Except then he had watched her from afar and smilied every time he saw the blonde beauty walking on the streets.

He now had the possibility of talking to her. She was so close, waiting for him to say something. She had asked if she might sit in front of him, for Odin's sake!

But Hiccup just ate, his face blank and his mind in turmoil.

"You've been training," he finally said.

_With the most perfect guy on the island, _the boy added, to himself.

"Yes," Astrid answered, not elaborating on the topic.

"How was it?" Hiccup asked tersely... and immediately cursed himself for it. He had accepted that Astrid would never choose him, so why was he taking his feelings out on her?

"It was fine," the gold-haired girl replied calmly, flicking her head and eyeing the youth in front of her and his sulking pose, "Hiccup," she spoke sharply.

The boy did not meet her eyes; his gazed bored into his wooden plate.

Astrid watched him, feeling her frustration grow at his silence.

"How did you defeat Gobber?" she finally queried, attempting to sound casual.

She looked at the boy's hair that now concealed those eyes she wanted to see. At least then she might be able to notice any other reaction than... sulking.

Astrid had asked herself many times why Hiccup did not seem to boast about his accomplishments and why he was acting so serious. He used to have that goofy smile whenever he saw her, always gaping at her and then looking away whenever he saw her glare.

Hiccup had a crush on her, just as many boys did. She was aware of this fact. And also aware that the auburn haired teen's reactions were very strange for someone who seemed to be winning all the time, these days.

The boy, actually, occupied her mind often. First, because he actually managed to defeat a dragon. Then he could add this recent victory over Gobber to the collection. And, after all this, he was well, _pouting_. Why? Hiccup was weird, secretive, distant and absolutely fascinating... _and_ she felt a strand of jealousy towards the scrawny boy.

He had done something she could not. Twice.

"It was not me who defeated Go-," Hiccup's voice flew out from beneath his small, irregular hair curtain.

"It _was _you!" Astrid said with emphasis, "Snotlout can say whatever he wants, but it was _you_ who thought of a plan, so don't say-!"

"Isn't it a sword that deals the final blow? The victor is the one who swings his weapon for the last time. Isn't it true?" the boy's measured voice stopped the girl's ever- hardening tone.

Astrid stopped; what else could she say? Argue? What was wrong with him? He wanted the glory, wanted to kill a dragon, wanted to talk to her! There never had been power in his voice or posture before, he had never showed confidence before. Was this the same Hiccup?

Who was he: Hiccup the warrior or Hiccup the clown?

The boy put one dish above the other and, taking both with one hand, he rose from his seat. Astrid, astonishing herself, sprung from the bench and grabbed Hiccup's hand.

"Why are you not happy?" she demanded, looking at the turned away face. Why wouldn't he look at her?

"But I am," Hiccup answered and showed his best smile, an all too perfect one.

It was so fake, so forced.

It peeved her, and her corded palm squeezed the youth's hand tighter. He was on his way to leading everybody in class, to get the honor of killing a dragon, of leading their unit. It was supposed to be she! How could he not show any happiness about his achievements? If he did, then it would be more bearable.

But, no, he seemed to be sad ...was he pitying her?

"Astrid," Hiccup said quietly, looking away, "You're hurting me..."

The girl let go of his hand slowly, Hiccup's fingers slipping on her skin as he moved his hand away, almost accidently touching her.

"See you later," the scrawny boy spoke his usual farewell and walked away.

Astrid eyes did not slip from Hiccup's figure until the youth disappeared through the doors.

She was sure Hiccup did not only mean his hand. The boy did not have a simple crush on her; he actually liked her far too much for his own good. Was that why he acted so miserable? Was it _her_ fault? What Astrid did not like was the guilt she felt about that. What she liked even_ less_ was that this feeling was addressed to a person who was supposed to be her rival. She had a very good reason to win the tournament. This group fight might be only now be competing in warm ups to the main single combat part of the training, however, it stung her pride to be shown she was lacking something. It was not according to her plan.

_How is he doing it? _ She asked herself, again. She could not figure it out! Since the unusual boy's first victory, she had been training even more furiously than ever. There was not a day she did not come home with her body in agony, collapsing into her bed and into a shallow slumber, agonising muscle pains her haunting lullaby.

She cracked her knuckles, a recently nervous gesture on her part, and one she was not aware she did. Thoughts about Hiccup had invaded her mind again in fruitless contemplation. How could this clumsy, weak boy _possibly_ be better than she?

"Is everything all right?" a deep tenor made her head jerk up to Fleshpetal, standing in front of her. He was massive, and yet she did not notice him. What was wrong with her?

"I'm all right. Sorry," she mumbled, abashed by her own reactions. She sat quickly back down and slurped her stew.

Fleshpetal took a seat in front of her without asking, "Have you learned what you wanted from Hiccup?" he queried casually, putting his gorgeous face on his palm, observing the girl with great attention.

"No, he did not answer me," Astrid responded, taking another mouthful of her meal, her eyes absent, preoccupied with thoughts of somebody other than the handsome man in front of her.

Fleshpetal's brows furrowed and he placed his hand on Astrid's, "Once we've finished, would you like to continue your training?" he asked, trying to meet her eyes, to make her snap into reality.

"Of course! Thank you for spending so much time with me," Astrid answered with a kind smile, looking into his eyes, finally, blushing a bit. It added even more charm to her face.

However, her hand slipped away from beneath Fleshpetal's hand, slowly and gently, as if trying not to hurt the man's feelings. Her head dropped, and her eyes misted again.

_Why is she not looking at me_? The young commander asked himself, tilting his head. He knew the reason. What he did not know was that he and Astrid shared exactly the same problem when it came to their desire to meet another person's eyes.

* * *

Hiccup sat on a simple stool in the middle of the kitchen. Around him, dozens of strings were hanging from the rafters, each holding various sorts of plants, flowers and several other things that looked like morsels of something the boy would never want to see, even less to eat.

He had his back exposed, sitting without his tunic. A chubby woman, her light hair tied in a neat ponytail, was taking away the last of what Hiccup politely called his 'wound-dressing'.

"Getting the kids out wasn't necessary, really...," the teen said apologetically, hearing only a rustle of material and feeling only a hand on his shoulder.

"I remember ya never liked t' show those scars t' anyone. It took Stoick an'I a long talk t' make ya let me see them," Mouldful said with a voice full of trained balance between softness and firmness. A woman can only wield a voice like that after many years of dealing with stubborn warriors and seeing far too many deaths.

Hiccup remained silent and still, letting the Healer examine the wound. The scarred teen had not visited this herb-smelling house since he was nine. No treats or pledges worked; Hiccup had wanted to take care of himself.

This time, Mouldful welcomed him with a wrinkled smile and a simple question," Wha' did ya do this time?"

"Does it hurt?" The woman asked, taking a pine-scented ointment and rubbing it in around the gash. Hiccup knew the pine was only there to hide the real ingredients of the medicine, and he would never ask what was in it. The boy did not like this place and its strong aroma, almost intoxicating him.

It all felt too familiar; as it were only here to hide the overwhelming odour of death. A large table by the door was used for supporting the injured. Nothing could remove the rusty stains of blood from the floor, or the small rows carved on the edges of the table where people's nails had scratched when worming in pain or clutched in an ultimate, desperate attempt to take a last breath before dying.

The boy remembered earlier times and a few scenes bored into his mind: the smooth feel of the wood and how slippery it became as he lay on it. The raised voices of people. The smell of burned flesh, mixing with the soothing aroma of herbs.

He remembered pain the most; he never wanted to experience such torment again. That table reminded him of it.

"Only a bit when I move my arm," Hiccup answered almost immediately.

"Any other pain?"

"No."

Hiccup took a glimpse at the side again. Damn table.

"I see..." the female voice stated, again, with a trained assurance that you had no choice, but to believe, "Ya do not have feelin' left in tha' part of yer body. It happens when somebody's skin gets burned deeply," she said in an emotionless voice, as if stating the most normal thing in the world.

Hiccup actually believed for a moment that having a deep depression in his scarred back was something absolutely normal.

Another glimpse.

Damn table.

"You'll need to sew it, right?" Hiccup asked, trying not to let his eyes deviate to the side.

A small fire cracked in the humble hearth.

"Aye, don't worry, it won't hurt...," Mouldful said gently, taking a thread from a large glass filled with light green liquid. A needle hung from the fibers' end.

"...this time..." Hiccup spurted out, his eyes returning to looking at the front.

Damn table.

He clutched his fist on his lap. A big hand turned his small body to face the healer and, before he could react, his head rested on the woman's massive chest, two gentle hands holding it.

"Shhh, it's going to be all right," she said in the same, perfect voice. Hiccup believed the woman. Before she started stitching, him he thought about how many people must have heard these words before him.

* * *

Three kids played in front of the house, all with small sticks, pretending to be warriors.

Hiccup held a clay mug of herbal tea, sitting on the stairs. Mouldful was sitting by him in a high chair, knitting. The boy had been asked a simple question a moment ago, "Who did it to ya?"

"I slipped," Hiccup answered with his most typical excuse.

"It is not a battle wound, it is also not somethin' a group of moronic teens does t' each other. Th' cut was too sharp. I can't believe how it stayed so clean for so long," the healer spoke nonchalantly.

"For so long?" the boy repeated.

"It looks like it was done a few days ago, yet th' wound started healing already," Mouldful said between the children's playful screams and the quiet sounds of her knitting needles.

"Few days?" Hiccup gasped.

"Did ya get hit in th' head as well?" The woman said seriously, "When I say a few days, it means few days. Ya still did not answer th' first question," she reminded him calmly.

"Do I need to answer that?" he spoke, knowing the answer he would receive.

"No..., ya never answered such questions before, this part did not change 'bout ya," Mouldful retorted.

Hiccup sipped the steaming brew," When can I take the stitches off? And can I train with them?"

"In a week. An' I wouldn't recommend th' training. Ya don't feel almost any pain, so that part shouldn't be a problem, but it will slow the recovery. You should visit me again t' let me take off," the chubby woman spoke insistingly.

"I need to go," the boy said, getting up," Thank you for the drink, it was delicious," he said, smiling.

Mouldful nodded, taking the half-way full mug from the youth, "Take care of yerself, Hiccup."

The boy answered, bowing "I will try my best," he answered, with perfect truthfulness.

* * *

"Sit!"

No reaction.

"Siiiiitttt."

Still nothing.

"Lie down."

Why was he not reacting?

_Why is it so hard to train a human_! Toothless thought with irritation.

Hiccup stood there with bared teeth, not doing anything.

"I don't hear anything," the pup said, raising a finger and scratching his face, "I only see you open your mouth, that's all."

Both of them sighed together. It was no use. They had tried a multiple times before and, for some reason, Scalgertar never seemed to hear what the dragon tried to utter. When Toothless was really lucky, Hiccup understood a part, or in a few rare occasions, a whole word. The word winners, so far, were "Want", "Drown" and "Now".

Using a bowing of head as 'yes' and turning from side to side as 'no' was enough for Toothless. Some dragons could not talk at all ,and body language was a satisfying way of communication. However, Hiccup insisted for the expression of agreement to be the word "Drown" and the one for disagreement to be "Now". The boy wanted to have verbal contact between them.

"Fly?" the one-bite-sized human asked, pointing up.

"Drown," Toothless answered and yawned widely, rolling his tongue out and then smacking his lips a few times.

"All right," Hiccup breathed out, correcting the new addition to his clothes, some interesting looking skin parts which crossed on his chest. He took the saddle to which he had added small metal elements and grabbed the tail-thing. The boy explained he had to spend most of the day creating a new clothing to help himself with flying. He also brought more metal devices to create more things. These were all just weird items in the dragon's eyes, but these weird items were helping him fly.

It was also incomprehensible to the Fury why humans said a word that meant_ everything _and adding to it a term about a cardinal direction... and that meant agreement!

Why not "All left?" or "All down?"

The boy put the harness on. This time it felt a bit more comfortable , and Toothless did not show any signs of anxiety; well, no visible signs.

The truth was, he was only a bit less uneasy than the previous time. As a contrast to his own feelings, he sensed a strong willingness and anticipation from the boy. It helped. A lot.

Before they enjoyed the pleasures air offered, the dragon demanded to see Hiccup's back, now smelling horribly of squashed plants and of the substance Hiccup mentioned when Toothless had enjoyed the unique opportunity of seeing his half-digested food on the ground.

_Wee-nay-gaar._

It took a lot of Hiccup's time to explain to the Fury that this was the human way of handling wounds like this and to stop Toothless from ripping the pitiful piece of cloth which covered the cut and start licking it.

These primitive rock-struck _Root-Of-All-Evil_-eaters could not even tell that there had been something wrong with Hiccup for so long! Did these bipeds even remotely care about the young one?

Those thoughts riled the dragon greatly. From what he understood, the responsibility for the pup fell on his father. Toothless chose to focus his mind attacks on_ that _particular human for not caring well enough about his offspring. What Kathet did not care about its young ones? Only a mindless assemblage, destined for 's father was also the leader, and that fact was hard for Toothless to accept, how such an incredulously detached individual could care of his clan if he could not even take care of his own hatchling!

Had Hiccup been an adult, it would have changed the dragon's point of view, but the boy was still young and fragile; and from his smell Toothless could say he never even had a female before. The boy needed protection and somebody to look after him.

Hiccup's body posture was begging for the dragon not to do anything, and so the irritated beast could not do whatever he pleased to the pup. Knocking the boy unconscious and cutting him open might have worked once.

Toothless snorted. Why did he bother caring about Hiccup's feelings? He only needed the human to fly.

After the preparations, they continued soaring slowly on slow glides, close to the ground. To Toothless's delight, Hiccup stopped yelping gleefully and remained focused on observing the tail and occasionally taking notes. The day went fast, and soon it was time for the break. It was the boy's request. The reason was not the human's fatigue getting in the way, but the need to mark his territory. In fact, Scalgertar seemed to have more energy than usual. Physically. His mind, on the other paw, was a fixed mess of happiness, unbreakable concentration and a crushing amount of radiating misery.

Hiccup Sighed, deep and long.

Toothless's ear-antennas smacked against his neck from their sudden drooping. It was the fourteenth time the boy had done it... the "Sigh". He was sitting on a rock and doing something called _drawing_.

Another Sigh, and the boy's amount of unhappiness almost made the dragon's brain freeze. The Fury sat and started thrashing the ground ostentatiously with his tail, trying to get Hiccup's attention.

The boy looked at the loud dragon and sighed again, got up, and walked to Toothless. He barely looked where he was going, closed notebook in his hand.

When he was almost by the restless Toothless, the notebook dropped and opened on the page with a pencil in it. Hiccup bent rapidly down to pick up the lost item.

The dragon was faster. The wind swooshed on Hiccup's face and suddenly Toothless was a fair distance away, holding the notebook in his maw. He put it between his paws on the ground and nuzzled it gently a few times to open it.

Scalgertar shouted his disapproval and ran towards the dragon, desperate to keep the notebook contents a secret. The dragon managed to flap it open it. He studied it, narrowing his eyes and memorising every detail. Hiccup was trying to get past Toothless's tail, which acted like a guard and, blocking the boy's chest, not letting the boy past.

"Toothless, don't look!" he ordered, his body heated, heartbeat rapid and face red. Amazing, this human ability to change the skin colour on their faces.

The dragon calmly looked for a bit more and released the teen, who sprinted and picked up his memoir. Hiccup brushed his vest nonchalantly and tried to act with as much dignity as possible.

Toothless wrinkled his nose, looking blankly, but barely holding himself back not to throw Hiccup into the water. Again.

All these sighs and problems because of... the dragon snorted and calmed himself. He understood it for the most part except one. His claw played in the dirt, creating letters. The boy's face changed from red to white pale and then to red again as he continued to read the letters.

WHY FEMALE NO CLOTHES?

The notebook dropped , and a bird chirped somewhere in the woods. The boy looked surprised, to say the least. Why did he react like this?

Now Toothless _had_ to know what was the connection between the drawing and Hiccup. The dragon also had to know how humans changed their colours. Was it some sort of camouflage? And also, the most interesting part: why did they seem to try and run away after being asked about uncovered females, the Fury asked himself, tail waggling playfully, looking, in fascination, at the boy now running to the exit,.

With less than a couple of leaps, the dragon caught up with the human; eyes wide open and ears-antennas standing. He stalked forward, purring with curiosity, almost in the same way they had met for the first time.

This time, as well, Hiccup stumbled and fell on his back, only to get up and sprint to his human-things-container. After a short fight with it, he took out a small looking, metal thing.

"I am armed and I won't hesitate to use it!" he squealed in a very high voice, clutching the metal-thing to his chest, his heart beating like crazy.

_Use it? In what way? I know he is armed! He has two arms after all! How silly_, Toothless thought with glee and walked forward to continue his questioning.

The boy raised the metal thing higher, and then a shiny reflection from the metal-thing was cast on the ground.

"Blink!" the dragon roared jumping at the place where the light spot was, trying to catch it. How long was it since he had played with Blinks? All dragons loved to chase the sudden light appearing on the ground, just as they also liked to chase _the Aeldengandari's _low energy version, the one which Scalgertar had chased not so long ago.

The Lightning Spirit was quite an accurate term for Toothless's fire. It was made of lightning and came not from his breath, but from his spirit, as the dragon was taught.

The very lowly charged _Aeldengandari _for pla_y _behaved in a staggeringly dissimilar manner from the typical highly charged blast used for destruction. Both had the same quality that they exploded on contact. The dragon could even decide when they should explode. With the discharge Hiccup had chased after, however, there was almost no energy and, when it exploded, it was mostly gentle light.

Toothless could also control the small lightning trajectory with his will. Interesting thing, but completely useless and _nothing_ compared to what IT was capable to do. Its only purpose was to keep young ones occupied. His sister used to make them chase after a few flying Blinks. Now, Toothless was chasing after a ground Blink , adding amazingly sophisticated thoughts to variegate his pursuit.

_Blink! __Blinkblinkbinkblinkblin_k! He pondered in this oh-so-sophisticated way, jumping on another gleaming spot.

Hiccup, for some reason, was laughing behind him. It was hard to resist the incomprehensible pull it had on dragons. They simply liked shiny things and loved to play.

Again the Blink appeared and Toothless jumped, trying to catch it. It escaped and reappeared closer to Hiccup. The dragon enjoyed himself for a while, releasing his playfulness.

After another jump, he suddenly remembered he had a few things to ask the human. Now in high spirits, he approached Hiccup and sat, his tail still waving. The pup moved the metal-thing, casting a Blink near the dragon, without any effect. Toothless was well trained, and he could resist his instincts.

The boy, noticing the sudden change in the Fury's demeanor, pointed at a thing behind Toothless and after shouting "There!" he tried to run away. _Tried_ was a good word, the same way that could be used to describe how he tried to make the dragon's tail release him a brief moment later.

Toothless gently laid the boy the down boy by his notebook and then sat in front of him with an expecting expression.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hiccup said shortly.

The dragon blasted some of the ground near him, encouragingly, still wearing the same angelic expression. He purred for a better effect. No human could resist such an astonishing combination.

"Fine!" The youth roared, raising his hands in defeat as the dragon predicted. The dragon smirked, satisfied with his ingenious strategy to make the human talk.

Toothless could not understand all of the words which escaped Hiccup's mouth like a torrent, accented with wild gesticulations. The dragon soon regretted his interest in the topic. The pup's problem was so simple it was not worth the Fury's very precious time: time he could spend on his favourite rock, catching the sunrays.

He actually went to the rock at some point, and this time it was Hiccup who followed him, attacking his mind with this story he did not care about.

Some time later when Toothless was seriously considered whether to toss Scalgertar into the water or to gnaw on his head, Hiccup stopped.

The dragon looked behind himself, astonished by the sudden silence and saw the boy reading his notebook.

_Uh- oh. Here it comes_, Toothless thought.

Hiccup Sighed, looked at the drawing, and Sighed again.

"All right, Toothless, let's go..." The boy said and shuffled to the dragon to get on the saddle. The dragon jumped down from the rock and growled. In his present condition, the pup would only get both of them killed.

Instead of focusing his amazing mind, the youth was feeling bad about... a female of all things! Why did not humans learn how to control their minds and instincts? Toothless had not had a female for a very long time as well, but he had learned how not to let it affect him.

Dealing with a dragoness was fairly simple. You showed her how strong you were, added a few gifts in the form of hunted game to show you were able to look after her and her family... and then she agreed or not. If she said no, you had to leave and search for another candidate. When you found her, you mated, had offspring and lived together until one of you died.

How complicated was that?

Toothless did not wait for another tormenting explanation or the Sigh to happe. He just scribbled a few words in the soil.

NO FLY... YOU GO HAVE FEMALE

Hiccup took a moment to decipher the runes. Toothless added some more, then, and watched Scelgarter's reaction.

WHY YOU RED?

Toothless studied the raising crimson on the youth's face.

The boy cleared his throat and sat, looking to his side and putting his head on his hand.

"It is not so easy, Toothless," he said, uttering the Sigh, "She likes somebody else; that's all. The end," Hiccup said taking, a quick look into dragon's eyes. Then he fell silent.

The dragon crooned and angled his head, ears twitching. The boy did not explain this human behaviour, and it only made it more intriguing.

There were also a few words Toothless did not understand. Why did Hiccup say 'here you have it'. Have _what_? Nothing changed, Scalgertar did not take out anything.

However, there was one word which immediately caught the dragon's attention.

WHAT IS ... LIKES?

Hiccup rubbed his small head with his hand, "It is hard to explain, it is ... to want to be with somebody even if that person is not there, to be interested and care, I guess."

Toothless drabbled again.

YOU GUESS YOU... LIKES...FEMALE?

The dragon could understand the concept. It was a human term to care and feel the need to be close. As the Fury thought of it, he realized he might have _liked_ his sister and brother and he might now be feeling _like _for Hiccup.

"No, Toothless," the youth's face lost its reddish colour and he had a earnestness and sadness showing in his eyes ... and yet a pretended nonchalance in his voice.

So confusing.

"I _love _her...I guess," Hiccup spoke.

The dragon responded to the boy's feelings, and he did not like the sudden prick of pain he felt when the youth said that.

WHAT IS LOVE? The Fury asked with a desire to know more about this thing which was so painful.

"I don't know," the answer came promptly, "It is like 'likes', but stronger, making you unable to think of anything else, it is a happy feeling, making you excited when that person is around, doing everything to impress her and make her like you even a bit. It is making you try more, become something better! It brings joy to your life," Hiccup said, smiling when looking at the pond water.

A wind blew and Scalgertar's hair moved rhythmically. The smiling boy had never looked more lonely to the dragon. Loneliness was what Toothless's first impression of the youth's eyes was. They were melancholic. He had felt the connection with the human, always present, but subtle. Hiccup felt hollow as if missing something, just as the dragon did. Yet, Hiccup seemed not to notice that part of himself. It was not about the female or his body, it was something was curious, but he would not ask about this feeling. It was bringing sorrow to the boy which the dragon felt as well. He decided to try to approach the pup from different angle.

YOU ALONE

The boy's smile smothered, "I am not alone, Toothless. It's just...oh," he emitted an aggravated huff, "I don't know, I am just weird."

YES

The dark creature simply agreed. The petite human _was_ weird; there was no denying that fact. Toothless felt satisfied the boy understood something about himself, pity it was just only a bit.

YOU NOT KNOW LOTS ABOUT YOU HICCUP THAT BAD

Making sure Scalgertar had read it, the dark paw swiped the earth and the white claw continued the thought.

YOU ACCEPT YOU AND LEARN YOU

"How do I do that?" Hiccup queried, a sense of doubt in his voice. Toothless understood that they were too different and the human would not understand the meaning of it. Nevertheless, the dragon wanted to help his clanmate. Somehow.

ALWAYS ASK YOU WHY YOU IS YOU AND WHEN YOU KNOW IT ACCEPT IT

More dubiousness radiated from the small human. It was not something the dragon could solve. He was almost certain bipeds did not solve the problems with themselves by visiting their _Lening Frondrak _fromtime to time when they felt they were getting frustrated.

Most of Hiccup's species, as observed by Toothless, was acting mindlessly, propelled by a desire to kill and destroy. Toothless could understand the desire to murder somebody but why destroy everything around it? Nail people to the trees and leave them until they die from starvation, breaking arms and legs and watch as the person squirms on the ground, unable to move?

Why all this? Why not simply kill the one they hated? There had to be hate or a similar good reason to kill anyone. At least when you were a dragon.

Humans seemed not to need a reason to make a being suffer and have... fun with it. Their cruel laugher often pierced Toothless's sensitive ears, pricking his hurtful heart.

That laughter was indistinguishably similar to the one IT had when that monstrosity invaded his thoughts. Although, this always created more curiosity than hate towards the primitive folk. Why would they do that? Humans were such a mystery. They could create such wonderful things, be courageous and full of uplifting pride and then, they could be worse than the most primitive of dragons, letting their instincts take over and go forward with them. Simply be cruel and mindlessly destructive.

Hiccup was... different. Thinking too much and feeling too much. This could be quite troublesome when the only reasonable thing to do in his humans' world was to crush an opponent's skull before he did do it to you. Brooding over yourself might get you answers ...or lock your mind in a quest for the answer that never was there.

All these attributes sounded frighteningly familiar to Toothless. The dragon had already thought about this for way too long. He still did.

He could not help Scalgertar, after all. The beast did not know how to do it. Perhaps one day he would learn enough about humans to be able to solve Hiccup's problems. For the moment, it was a journey the emotional boy had to go by himself.

WANT PLAY?

The words appeared in the earth surface after the previous ones. Hiccup smiled broadly and bowed his head in agreement.

Toothless asked the youth to take off all of the flying items and then to sit in front of him. The sable dragon hoped for his smaller familiar to be distracted by this upcoming activity. He was happy to discover that he was not mistaken.

The game was simple and, as every draconic game, it was supposed to end with one of the participants getting hurt. Toothless scooped a small rock with his paw and located it between himself and the curious-looking clanmate. The idea was you caught the rock before your opponent did. Quite simple. However, the fun was not in catching the token, but in using strategy to be the one to catch it first.

You were not allowed to move anything except your head , and you could not attack unless your opponent did. If, during your attempt to possess the item, the second player did not move, it did not count. The main point was to deceive by pretending to look away for the moment, looking into the eyes of your playmate or insult him.

Insulting was not an option, as the human would not understand insults, but it did not make the fun any less interesting. The scaled beast tried to explain the game as simply as possible and after a few failed tries, they were ready to go.

Toothless looked at the grey, oval rock and his eyes moved up to the human's, smirking confidently. The boy's hand shook. It was not missed by the Fury. His tail fin moved over the rock in the blink of an eye.

"I didn't move!" Hiccup yelled in his defence. The dragon raised his eyebrow.

"Fine! Again!" the boy called.

The game continued with the occasional yell of the boy and the low, rumbling laughter usually following it.

It was better to see the boy laugh and scowl after another wrong or too slow move, even though it was a facade that almost concealed the sadness inside.

_One day_, Toothless promised, _you will not have to pretend your smile Scalgertar_

"I won!" Hiccup shouted, raising his hands holding the rock. The dragon just moved his tail, lost in his thought and in the boy's smile

"Did anybody see that?" the excited teen continued, standing and performing some weird movements with his body,"Hiccup wins again!"

Toothless let the youth have his moment of glory, moving his tail lazily in fanning motions.

They played until the sunlight reflected on small clouds with a pink glow and the temperature dropped, making the sea smell more distinctive and refreshing.

Hiccup left soon, with hesitation, back to his home, grabbing the rock's edge and flying items strongly before looking back as if trying to find any other reason to stay. He had said he did not want others to notice he was away too often. It seemed hard, life in the Viking world.

Hiccup was different. and he had to pay for that. Pay for having a weak body because nobody ever took a closer look at it and its hidden strengths. Pay for a magnificent mind and a noble heart, more full of dignity and courage than most of the dragons had.

It seemed humans rejected the ones who were different from normal.

Actually, Toothless felt Hiccup had proved to be more dangerous than any of the other humans of his clan; was this not the thing the Vikings wanted? To have more power to destroy and kill? Why was it so hard for humans to let the scales drop from their eyes and see something more, if not in dragons, then at least in one of their own kind?

And how many more individuals like Hiccup, had been lost or cast away by Hiccup's people? Be just like us or die...

_Where are you going, humans...? _the dragon wondered. No matter how many times he asked himself that, he always came to the same conclusion_, ...if not straight to your doom_?

He looked at the empty space where Hiccup had stood. The dragon wanted to take at least just this one person, free him from the cruel circle humanity seemed to place upon themselves. Free him before he was be pulled inside of it as well.

* * *

"Didn't kill anyone today?" A deep voice inquired facetiously from the darkened room.

"No," Astrid responded, her voice serious, as if not noticing the tone her father had just used.

Leifr was sitting by the table, alone. That never meant anything good. One of the _bad_ things it meant was a serious talk, which always happened in such situations. It was a father's duty to handle the household matters as well as issues. And Astrid counted herself as an issue presently.

"Please, sit," Leifr asked softly, pointing at the chair across from where he was sitting. The fact that the blonde's father was using the highest of the chairs, the one giving a sense of authority, added to the seriousness of the matter.

The axe-wielding girl obeyed and, leather armor rustling, she seated herself at the place where her father pointed.

"How hav' ya been lately?" The stonecutter asked, his eyes suspended on Astrid, examining every dirt mark on her face and hair, mixed together with a considerable collection of bruises and cuts.

"I've been training," the young woman responded calmly, flicking her head.

"This is th' thing I wanted t' talk 'bout," Leifr took a deep breath, "I think ya should stop trainin' so hard," he said gravely, bringing his massive hands together.

"I do not see anything wrong with what I am doing, father," the golden-haired female said politely, with a pleasant smile, "My trainer does not see anything bad in it either. Considering my latest Dragon training results, additional practice is more than required."

She spoke automatically as if reciting a memorised quote.

The powerfully- built man, looked into his daughter's bright eyes, "Ya know very well our house does not need th' glory or attention' comin' from your trainin'."

Leifr leaned forward and placed his heavy palm on Astrid's shoulder, "We only want ya t' get out alive from there. I admit, I wouldn't survive if I lost ya, little-one."

"I am not a child anymore, father," the tired-looking teen said with the same idyllic smile, and on her father's face, a hurtful grimace appeared.

"Since I turned twelve I have decided on... something and I want to fulfill it..." she hesitated for a moment as Leifr retracted his hand , "it is not that I am not grateful that you still keep me under your roof and provide me with food. I promise that when you have a better place in society here, I will move out and stop being a nuisance-"

A sharp thundering sound made her jerk as her father struck the heavy oak table.

"I **_won't_** let my daughter speak like tha'," he said quietly with a voice full of anger," Ya hav' pulled yerself away from yer family, my precious daughter. How ya can not know tha' this house will always be yours, as much as it is mine? Tha' I would giv' ya everythin'! Yer mother would always welcome ya with warm food an' a dressed bed. How ya can consider yerself a nuisance?" he uttered, his tone filled with great sorrow.

"Hav' we been a bad parents t' ya? Hav' we not loved ya enough? I _know_ I can't forbid ya from participatin' in that bloody mess of a trainin'," he continued, and the inflection of his voice made Astrid hate herself for how much pain she was bringing to this man.

Her so carefully retained smile had already broken long ago.

Her father continued, "I always was a coward, Astrid. I was afraid of war and pain. I did not understand th' way most Vikings thought, me being an immigrant, and an immigrant with a child who was born here on Berk. I wanted t' escape this rigid island many times. I still want to, sometimes, but there are two things an' those two things were always enough t' make me stay. One of these things is yer mother, a proud Viking warrior who chose to immigrate here with me. The second, is ya, Astrid, my dear!" he clenched his hands together, hard, "Don't kill yerself over this stupid Viking pride or whatever goal ya have chosen."

"You were always overdramatic, Dad," Astrid said, without a smile.

It was her turn, this time, to put a hand on Leifr's shoulder, "I know you are worried, but I am fine with the training. I am _not _satisfied with how I am doing and I want to be better. I want to be a soldier, Dad. To protect you, mom, and the village. I could also tell you why I want to win this so badly, but I want this to be a surprise. So, please, don't ask me about this anymore."

The strong man grasped the smaller hand and tried nodding with understanding.

"Yer mother said, she is givin' ya her full support. It seems she is not as overdramatic as me," Leifr said with a hint of humour, to Astrid's relief.

They did not mention the topic again, even with a word.

Saldis later came back home from what she said was a "long run over the neighbourhood," collecting the latest gossip; her eyes met with her husband's only once as she entered the house. They ate together and chatted, just like they did every day.

Astrid thanked her parents for the meal and said she needed to wash herself and rest.

As soon as the door to her room closed, she dropped to her bed, fighting the drowsiness. The many forms and intensity of her pains were not letting her sleep. She stood and stripped in front of the polished shield she used as a mirror.

She had worn a bandage covering her chest for the whole day. With a sigh of great relief she took the sweat-soaked bindings off. The skin and nipples of her breasts were irritated, and she felt pain with every touch. She fingers glided down, touching the bruises on her body, the old ones, yellow, and those just acquired, purple and blue. Fleshpetal was merciless when training with her, though he was kind afterwards.

He was intelligent and funny. He did not boast about his talents and was loved by others. She liked him; she found herself imagining as the perfect Viking man for her.

And, still, she could not forget Hiccup's sad face and especially how his fingers touched her hand.

She touched the same spot on her hand that the boy had, trying to recall the feeling. Then, suddenly she stopped, surprised by her actions. She knew was only fascinated by him because he had proven better than everybody expected and had kept on winning.

She met her own piercing blue gaze in the iron mirror.

He was her enemy. Only another competitor, an obstruction towards her goal.

She was doing it for her family, a cause much better than anyone else's!

Her reflected face and eyes agreed , and the pain of her body helped her force out anger against the scrawny teen. Only the irritatingly pleasant feeling of his touch remained and stayed with her as she washed herself and went to bed, trying to sleep.

The pain finally subsided, allowing her to let the tiredness take over and make the night forget about everything.

She woke up in the morning. For a moment, she had a small, victorious smile on her face.

For a moment.

The feeling on her hand was still there.

**

* * *

**

_Why won't you just die in peace_? Hiccup thought with great annoyance as he was woken up in the morning, as almost every day, by the loudest rooster in the village. Not only did the screeching tormentor always choose the roof next to Hiccup's window, but that chicken was also doing it until the drowsy boy would open the window and start cursing or throwing something; usually something light, as heavier things did not fly very far.

Anyway, he usually had problems with lifting heavy objects to the windowsill.

Hiccup looked at his bow, lying on his desk with the string spiraling around it. He thought that it might not be such a good idea to use it, even for the very noble cause of letting that bawling bird meet its end.

In his great mercy, the boy decided to forgive the rooster its impudence and let it enjoy another day of his life.

Scratching his hair and then his butt in a majestic way, Hiccup dressed in his training tunic and trousers and donned his bearskin vest. He made his way downstairs, picking his bare feet over a recently retooled saddle and his new flying vest.

It might have been another short night, but it had been a very fruitful one.

Sipping his herbal infusion, he studied the design one more time. The vest was basically made with two leather straps across his chest creating an X-shaped cross. In the middle of this cross at sternum height, he installed a metal ring to the bottom of which a thin, but very strong, sailing rope had been attached. That should solve the problem of Hiccup falling off with every sudden turn and twist from the dragon.

With verve he sprung from his seat and, satisfied with the work done, he slipped on his boots, grabbed his helmet and stepped outside. His body was feeling whole and alert, in a way he never had experienced before. Whatever Toothless had done to him, he was very grateful for that. He would ask the dragon to continue whatever he did again in the near future, as it seemed to make his wounds heal faster.

With confident and quick steps, he marched to the Mead Hall. It might have been another Dragon Training class day ahead, but Gods, he was hungry and _nothing_ would stand in front of him and his breakfast stew.

**

* * *

**

The small crowd yelled in applause.

It was an official fact now. Hiccup had been able to defeat a dragon without touching it, which, in the Viking vocabulary, meant kill it with a heavy object until it was a bloody mess level with the ground.

Hiccup nodded shyly to the clapping people, acting very modest and not going on loudly about the upcoming drinking contest in the Mead Hall.

The "crowd favorite" was quite pleased with himself. The smooth moves, the calm acting with a ferocious and vicious dragon on the loose,the feints in order to execute his ingenious plan.

Anyway, this was what Hiccup forced himself to think, in order to manage plastering a smile to his face as he waved to his, still very new, fans.

The one thing which was satisfying to him was that _he _had defeated the Terror and showed himself superior to the other Viking kids.

But there were other reasons behind that, too.

The youth had no doubt that other trainees would have hurt the tiny dragon and, as much as he wanted to stay off-side, Hiccup did not want that to happen. To him, the little one looked like a terrified beast, pitiful as it tried to crawl into the walls and escape when the others tried to chase it.

The tiny dragon was very fast on the ground, and nobody was able to catch up with it. It used all of its time away when it was not being pursued by humans to try and crawl up the rock wall, yelping in a way that pierced Hiccup's kind heart.

The spectators found it hilarious as the dragon tried to escape right after biting Tuffnut's nose.

Hiccup realized the Terror was only trying to survive. It was scared and defended itself the only way it knew without getting it marked for being killled by humans.

And Hiccup also knew Tuffnut's nose would have been a memory if the Terror had attacked seriously. For Hiccup nothing of all this pointless, cruel fight made any sense.

He then decided to forget about his plan to stay as far as possible from the fighting, and he used the small speck of light, making the pocket-sized quadruped chase it. It purred in curiosity, seemingly hypnotised, as it followed the light to the door-flap from which it came out.

He did not mind Snotlout's sulking posture or Astrid glaring at him, first with disbelief and then with clear fury.

He had done the right thing and he would not have changed it for anything else.

At this point, his ingenious plan to be only a shadow in the background was crumbling apart. Now, as he won more of the fights, he realized he would be chosen as the leader of the group. Even more of a reason to celebrate.

However, Hiccup was finding out he was not a dragon killer, but a sensitive, emotional, empath.

And this realization he was an empath, this he saw would be a giant turning-point of his life.

Why were the gods always choosing people who typically led miserable lives full of pain and sorrow?

Hiccup let his mind play out a sarcastic possibility for his existence on this crazy island.

_Hey Hiccup! I'm Thor, I know you will be born in a moment but...um, how to tell you this, there was not enough comedy left in the world...so I decided to make things really hilarious on Berk. I'll make you really small and skinny and yet... guess what kind of destiny I have in mind for you?_

The boy played with his imagination as he was clapped on the shoulder more times than he wanted.

In a blur, he saw Fishlegs put his hands on his shoulders and shake him like a rag doll, shouting about him being the unit leader.

Ruffnut, also, joined to congratulate him by simply shaking hands with him and then encouragingly slapping his bottom hard, earning a yelp of surprise and a reddened face from Hiccup. As awkward a gesture as it was, the auburn-haired boy enjoyed having another person from the training group acknowledge him. He realized now he probably would be the one to lead this group of teens, and he needed as much support from them as possible.

Snotlout and Tuffnut were standing aside, talking to each other about something, the blond boy pressing the piece of cloths to his nose. It looked as if the nose-bitten boy wanted to convince his muscular companion about something.

The scrawny teen was, at the moment, taken by the crowd , who yelled and cried out about his manliness, surrounding him and taking him to the village.

Turning his head back to look at the one girl he had tried not to watch through the whole training in order not to lose concentration, he saw her, still in the Ring, her axe held low, not looking at him, but at the ground. He could not see her face; it was too far away to read any details. But he did remember Astrid had not looked so well today, with puffed eyes and small scars on her beautiful face.

One man separated from the mob and turned back to the training ground, a strong golden man heading to the lone, golden young women in the Kill Ring .

Hiccup had to make himself ignore that vision.

So, instead he made himself look forward, heading to celebrate his well-deserved glorification. He had to keep on smiling, keep on talking back and keep on acting as if everything was perfectly fine. He accepted the attention and talked cheerfully to people who just a week ago had wished he would drop dead.

Hiccup kept the show going. Though the only thing he could think of was the scene, deeply carved into his mind, of Fleshpetal hugging the lone figure of Astrid.

**

* * *

**

The pencil moved sharply on the parchment. The sound it made, as another instruction on how to operate Toothless's tailfin was created, were the only sounds the immobile Viking boy could hear.

The dragon remained quiet, not asking about anything or trying to play when Hiccup was not in the mood for it.

Hiccup could still swear the intelligent Fury was able to probe his mind sometimes.

Hiccup's current thoughts were on the final dragon. This dragon training would consist of three more fights as a group, with the Gronkle, the Zippleback and the Nadder. He had to think of plans to make the unit survive it, protect the dragons from getting slaughtered and protect himself, protect Toothless, protect the secret...

Hiccup had never had anything to protect and now, barely two weeks after meeting the dragon the list was so long already. Wasthis what it meant to grow up? To have things you were responsible for?

With the growing responsibility, came fear.

Hiccup thought about his father, Toothless, Astrid, other trainees and himself. In that order, no other. A couple of days ago he would not have cared if he had died during the training or the dragon raid. It was a fear he had learned to tame.

Something lightly touched his head. Hiccup reached up small hand and pet the scaled nose, and Hiccup felt the blow of hot air as he scratched it. Toothless soon purred and closed his eyes, letting the boy enjoy a bit of cuddling.

The sleek dragon and Hiccup shared the same thought then, on how much strength and energy a simple physical contact could give. Then the thoughtful youth embraced the short, jet black neck, still keeping the notebook in his palm, and rested his forehead on the dragon's skin.

Everything seemed so much easier with another one next to you. He would survive the training and not let the dragons die. He would not let anyone find Toothless.

He smiled, absorbing the heat and tenderness that came with it. He would make all of it happen, no matter what.

**

* * *

**

_No matter what_! Astrid thought, throwing her axe at the tree trunk. She kept repeating this to herself with every axe throw. The wood was deeply scarred, the spot hit the most without any bark, the light coloured trunk inside showed itself, splintered and shattered from the continuous and uncountable, impetuous blows.

She moved to receive her weapon. The first step was as confident as every one, then the confidence ended.

Suddenly, her legs buckled beneath her, and the next thing she remembered was her looking at the short grass by her face, taking deep breaths, ears filled with buzzing and head spinning. The sweat drop slid off her smooth cheek.

_Not good... I forgot to eat and drink properly... for a few days_, _or sleep_... she thought calmly for the first time after Hiccup had defeated another dragon.

She had spent some time with Fleshpetal, listening to his comments, made with a gentle voice. She remembered how she had tried to listen, pretending to be interested.

But all she saw was Hiccup with his sad smile, shield in his hands, closing the door-flap with his boot.

The most amazing golden Viking in the village was spending time with her and she could not even concentrate on Fleshpetal. She just could not do that.

She had to release the sudden anger, everything accumulating in her since her latest lost fight.

Now, pain was the only thing filling her body. A moment of stillness changed it into a quiet hum. It felt good to lie still for a moment even if she knew that training was more important than resting.

_Move up Astrid! You can do it!_ The usual commands flashed in her mind. She could not move. It only hurt. Not only her body, but heart as well. Her dream of doing something for her family was slipping away from her fingers, going farther and farther away.

The only thing she had found at the training was disappointment. How did she end up, being the most promising young warrior, as a second-class addition, constantly defeated... by _Hiccup_? By the scrawniest, most useless Viking that ever existed!

She hated him at that moment, the foreign feeling burned her and clouded her mind. Such consideration of the boy had never crossed her mind. She only wanted to release her fury. The ferocious girl let out an unbound, short scream, filled with loath and frustration. The only thing she could do.

Feeling completely drained from any energy or hope, her eyes started to close.

She had not been trying hard enough. There was still something she could do, but what? Her useless body did not want to move. It was so pathetic. She felt pathetic, but that would change... right?

_I hate you, Hiccup_! was her last, bitter thought before her eyes closed, completely seeing the grass blade, standing proudly over her as thin as it was, impassive and unmoving.

**

* * *

**

She was woken up by a swooshing of leaves. She was lying on bear fur, smelling of soot and old-leather. She slowly opened her eyes and saw that the forest was darkening. It was evening already; she had to hurry before it would get dark.

"How are we?" A male voice asked gently. She turned to see a tall man's figure sitting near her. In fact, he held her head in his lap. That did not make her stir inside however.

"Thank you," she answered, huskily. It was the first thing she wanted to say, "I'm sorry for the trouble," was the second thing that she had to voice.

"I'll take it as a 'I am perfectly fine'?" The man spoke, jokingly, and stroked her hair off her forehead. The weakened girl sat clumsily, supporting her body with hands and looking back at her saviour.

"Thank you, again," Astrid said weakly with a very kind smile. Her head was hurting, together with probably every nail on her body.

A bota appeared near her face, held by a long-fingered hand with white-corded wrists.

"I thought we were done with the thanking already," Fleshpetal said, smiling gloriously and looking with interest at the young woman drinking from the leather-container.

Astrid returned the bota, thanking him for it and stayed sitting. It was time for silence and questions.

She did not want any of those if she could help it. Luckily for her, she did not receive any of those.

"So you thought that going to train alone in the forest was a good idea. It seems as if it wasn't," the tall man said in almost the same confident tone the blonde had just used.

Stating, not asking.

"Yes, looks like I overworked myself a bit," Astrid said softly, trying to stand up. Her body swayed and a hand grabbed her by her waist, helping her keep her balance.

"I warned you this would happen," Fleshpetal's strict voice said, talking in shortly accented words, "You are an adult, so I can't order you what to do, but I can promise you that if you continue to treat your body in this way I _will_ stop teaching you. Is that clear?" He asked in a soldier's fashion.

"Yes, sir," Astrid responded automatically, leaning away from the handsome man.

"Can you walk?" Fleshpetal queried with a changed, affectionate and gentle tone. Keeping on supporting the girl by her waistline. The skirted warrioress did not break the contact, enjoying a helpful company.

"Yes, thank you," she answered, and her golden-haired trainer slid the bear fur on her shoulders. Taking the girl under his arm, he guided her.

They started strolling slowly through the woods. Astrid recognised the place they were in. It was a part of the forest, just nearby the village, the one used by the lumberjacks to get into the woods.

"Why didn't you take me to the healer's home?" She asked, feeling the warmth and enjoyable smell of the man next to her.

"Because I knew how humiliating for you it would be to be carried there," he said smoothly.

Astrid leaned closer to him, letting him know how grateful she was for that.

"I also made you drink water when you were unconscious by putting some in your mouth...by kissing," Fleshpetal said playfully, scratching his nose.

The girl stopped, goggling with terror and feeling her cheeks burn. The young man kept his face straight for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"That face was priceless!" he chuckled in a pearl-rich voice.

Astrid hit his arm lightly, along with the word ,"Jerk!"

That teasing did not help her cheeks cool down, but it helped her mood.

"I like this face," Fleshpetal said with a honesty the girl was not ready for. She looked up to see the man's eyes looking seriously back at her.

It made her even more embarrassed.

_I just passed out, I am not acting like myself_, she tried to explain her strange behaviour to herself.

"You look like a very fine woman once that ferocious look is off your face, beautiful and charming," the young commander spoke in an alluring voice.

Astrid did not respond, but put her head on the arm-side, firm and strong, letting this gesture speak for her.

She almost never considered herself as a woman. More as a soldier or a warrior. Men were a mystery to her. She knew that boys were attracted to her, but she never answered any of them, concentrated on training and achieving more.

Still, on rare occasions her feminine part woke up in trivial ways she barely noticed, like a desire to always wear a skirt or to comb her hair in a way that a few strands always covered the left side of her face. Completely unpractical and handicapping her vision sometimes, but she liked it. Feeling attractive improved her mood.

Astrid thought about that, and she found it peculiar she did not feel much more when walking with the man she always thought might be the one for her. Her heart beat harder and she flushed when he smiled to her. What woman would not? He was an older friend to her. Somebody she respected and valued deeply. Her mentor and a friend. Why not a lover?

She explained to herself that she needed more time to know Fleshpetal better. That it was due to the training. She did not have a mindset for a romance now. Was it due to stress or to her neglecting behaviour towards her body? Or maybe her period was coming and her mood swings were starting?

She fought with her thoughts until she heard dull sounds beneath her feet. They were at the small wooden bridge, they had reached the village outskirts. A picturesque sawmill located by the small brook babbled quietly, propelling a big squeaking and mossed wheel.

"I am fine now, thank you," Astrid spoke, leaning away from the pleasantly- scented male.

"I could escort you to your home if you like...," Fleshpetal said, eagerness in his voice.

The worn-out girl squeezed his hand, feeling awful to crush the young man's hopes. She was not ready for her parents to meet him and there was a more important reason than that.

"I do not want people to talk about you and me more than they already have. You have your reputation to protect," her face beamed with a soft smile that Fleshpetal could not refuse.

The gossip about them was very intense. The village was not so large, and people fed on the latest news as on every fresh piece of information on the island.

"And so have you," the young man's friendly voice reminded Astrid.

With a swift movement, the girl took off the fur and after folding it, offered it back to the blond-haired man, "Thank you for keeping me warm and thank you for helping me."

Fleshpetal took the coat in one hand and with the other, took out Astrid's axe from beneath his belt.

"I almost forgot about it... thank you for that, as well," the girl said shyly, taking the chopper.

They both stood in the middle of the bridge, both of them silent. The tired girl was confused what a moment of quietness could mean, but it seemed as the man was waiting for something.

Fleshpetal sighed, and with a smirk, he spoke neutrally, making Astrid's eyes widen and her heart beat faster in a vague memory of the other, smaller hands carrying her first. She hoped it was only a prank of her imagination. The problem was in her opinion, she did not have a lot of imagination.

"Madam," he bowed deeply, smiling sadly "I cannot assign all these deeds to myself, because this fur is not mine and it was not me who found you."

**

* * *

**

Hiccup felt uncomfortable through the whole training-analysis session with Gobber. There were praises, and short talk on how proud he was to have defeated another dragon.

The boy thought his best personal skill would soon be acting and manipulating. It hurt his pride a bit as first, but as the training progressed, he regretted less and less the choices he had made. This excluded Toothless, as he felt the guilt of crippling the dragon was something he would never come to terms with.

His efforts to concentrate and think of the way to control the downed dragon's tail-fin were fruitless.

Fleshpetal gazing at him almost the entire time he had been Mead Hall might have something to do with it.

The meeting ended, and Hiccup squeezed out through the crowd of people, patting and talking to him about things he did not care about. Several older girls asked if he might have a moment to talk to them, marking their not-so-covert intentions with furious eye lashing as if something had dropped into their eyes. Even this was something he slipped through with a quick excuse, not feeling flattered or awarded.

His whole performance with dragons was based on tricks and not on his actual skills. It was a lie and the only thing he cared about then, was for this lie not to get exposed.

His face hardened at the sight of Fleshpetal waiting for him outside. Hiccup expected this and he walked closer.

"Good evening," the taller man greeted, nodding his head.

"Hi," the thoughtful youth said back. He could not pretend this time. He was jealous of the man in front of him solely because he was somebody Astrid was interested in. When thinking about the charming girl, his mind was a twisted into a boiling tub full of desire.

Just add a bit of lust, a pinch of realism and monstrous amounts of fantasies.

They walked towards the docks, going through the street with rows of torches on the both sides, lighting a rocky road.

"How is she?" Hiccup asked, breaking the silence.

"If I told you she's fine, would you believe it?" Fleshpetal asked calmly.

"No, I would not," the answer came with a dark voice.

Hiccup then got what the average Viking would get for pushing his luck with a rude tone and contemptuous behaviour. He was grabbed by his tunic and slammed into the rocky side of the hill that stood by the piers.

"It's very funny you should say that," Fleshpetal said in an unemotional tone. His calm conduct did not indicate he had just made another person lose his breath.

He simply stepped on the youth's small boots without looking down so that said youth could not kick him. On the surface, it seemed he was having a very thoughtful conversation with a valued soul mate.

"It's so funny I can't even laugh," the captivating man continued his speech as calmly as previously. Not once did the tone of his voice change, or his face expression. Even his eyes were a shining pond of calmness. He was full of calculated commiseration instead of anger, and Hiccup hated Fleshpetal much more for that.

"It dropped me into a pit of wonder, how you could act like that. Full of spineless self-pity," Fleshpetal continued, "Helping a woman you have feelings for... and then leaving her with a man who you should consider as your rival."

The scrubby teen did not try to free himself, letting Fleshpetal speak

"Why do you like Astrid?"

Hiccup looked away from the questioning, bright eyes.

"Why are you asking me this?" the boy said quietly, "Shouldn't you be happy with the situation? You got a chance to get closer to the girl you are interested in. It's what she wants anyway and-"

A sharp blow to his face stopped him. It was not a heavy strike which would break his jaw. Only a light punch, but enough to break his lip and make him taste the blood in his mouth. He spat out the blood to the ground, clutching his teeth in anger, but not facing the warrior who had hit him.

Hiccup was mad and the adrenaline hitting his brain was not helping either, yet, he would not look back with fiery eyes.

He must put his feelings for Astrid behind him.

"That's what I find so funny," Fleshpetal continued in unflurried way, "How could a young man, full of passion and courage on a battlefield change so easily into a young boy, full of insecurities and complexes? I asked you why you like- or love her- for a simple reason. Do you _actually_ know anything about her?"

Hiccup's motionless, silent face spoke for him.

"No, you don't get away with that," the young commander said softly, "You act on how you feel without basing your knowledge on facts. It's so different from when you fight dragons. You met me in the woods as I was waiting for her on the path, when you were carrying her back here. And, yet, you set her down on your fur coat. And you let me play the hero. I know why you did it, Hiccup," his hand squeezed the green tunic harder and Fleshpetal's voice darkened.

He would give him a piece of his mind, it was the reason he asked Hiccup here.

They would enjoy a lovely man to man talk with a few honest words and few honest punches.

The punch part was out of the way; it was time for some honest words now, "You're trying to play the hurt altruist. You love her, I could see it all along. You love her deeply, even without knowing almost anything about her. You love her enough to make choices for her good over yours."

Fleshpetal's blue eyes glistened dangerously, and he showed his teeth in wrath, "This is what you are thinking, Hiccup. You think it is for her own good, acting of good will and heart. I'll tell you something young warrior!"

Fleshpetal drew his face closer to Hiccup's, whose green eyes kept staring at the ground, "Fuck your good heart, Hiccup! I have to admit I like this part of you. The closet idealist, dreaming of something more and not accepting the reality in front of your nose. But you never give up your illusions! I just have to be satisfied that your good nature will be your greatest. sorrow. You will always see better in others than yourself, and you will never be happy with who you are."

"I still do not know why you're telling me all this," Hiccup mouthed, "You are interested in her, as you said and you shouldn't bother with me. It is almost as you consider me a worthy rival for her heart."

He sighed, this time clearly speaking to himself "Why do you people keep asking me about her all the time? I have accepted that she will never look at me with an open mind. To her I am a loser. It is only a fact and, as you wisely said, 'I just have to be satisfied my good nature will be my greatest sorrow', " Hiccup took a glance up into Fleshpetal's eyes for a moment and then averted his gaze, suddenly feeling an unexpected new pity for the perfect man in front of him.

The blond man took a deep breath, clutching his teeth in rage.

Hiccup only needed one look at him to know the reason for all this speech. Fleshpetal saw himself in the scrawny young man before him, and that was the real source of his anger.

Both of them were too intelligent and empathic and both of them would never truly fit in.

The difference was, the handsome male adapted to what Berk expected of young Viking men. He tried to block his feelings and marched as the culture dictated, selling his values, regardless of how much pain and misery it brought. Hiccup, on the other hand, had wound up almost being proud of being different. And he was becoming a successful dragon warrior!

Hiccup could see all of it in one short look, so why did he not not see what Astrid was going through?

Fleshpetal knew the answer to that. It was painful how obvious the world seemed to be, and this only brought more questions and doubts, he only saw more ugliness in people's actions and the utter nonsense of the world.

The weedy teen could only see things as they were without having an emotional attachment to it. In another way, he let his view of the obvious truth be clouded by his self-disdain and lack of confidence.

How strongly had Astrid reacted after Fleshpetal had told her that it was not he who had rescued her! She had demanded him to answer if it had been Hiccup. She was almost hysterical when he confirmed that. It seemed to justify all that stress she had been showing, a feeling that almost choked her. If it went on like this, the beautiful girl would lose herself to the obsessive state that she yet did not recognise or was able to control.

He wanted to get some wit into the boneless boy before Astrid got hurt even more.

"I won't renounce Astrid," Fleshpetal said, as if trying to convince himself of the outcome of this situation, which his mind already provided him was a fake one.

"I hope you won't," Hiccup uttered, looking away, still with an attitude devoid of any care or heart.

It broke the last remnants of the blond-haired man's calmness. This time he _would_ punch without any reserve...!

"I'm afraid I won't let you do that," the boy spoke in a clear voice as Fleshpetal raised his hand halfway up to strike the scrawny youth.

"And how would you do that?" he asked, clutching his palm.

Hiccup turned his head to face his captor, with an expression the well-favoured man Fleshpetal admired. Hiccup's gaze was now strong and fierce, same as heroes wore on the battlefield.

"Since we have started this conversation did you know you had a dagger by your stomach?" the teen said, his green eyes surprisingly dangerous, mimicking Fleshpetal's tranquilised manner, "If you don't believe me, just can look down."

The experienced warrior put a smuggish smirk on his face. He would not fall for the oldest trick in the book or indulge himself in a pointless talk for the youth to buy time. If he looked down, he would get hit. He would punch that kid and nothing would stop him.

Except a half elbow of sharp iron stinging the skin on his belly.

Fleshpetal had to look down to check it was not an illusion. He looked briefly to his belt and saw a dagger shining dangerously in Hiccup's small hand. He looked back into the boy's shining green eyes. There was no way that inept teen could have sneakily taken out a weapon when he held him. Fleshpetal would have spotted any movement of his hands reaching to his belt or boot, where daggers were usually hidden.

And yet... Hiccup had outsmarted him.

"Can you let me go, please?" Hiccup said, digging in the dagger tip make his pledge more persuadable.

It did not matter how the modest lad had done it.

The young commander felt tired suddenly. There was no getting through to this person.

With a swift move he released the boy and stepped back.

Hiccup, as if nothing happened, opened his vest and hid the dagger in the lower pocket. He then straightened his vest and looked blankly at the ground as if afraid of what he had done. He had won against Fleshpetal, a fight without a challenge or duel.

"I told her it was you who found and carried her," the handsome man spoke clearly.

For the first time this evening Hiccup's face showed surprise and anger. Fleshpetal also saw some hope in his eyes, which quickly disappeared, only leaving a glossy and pretended indifference. It was the only satisfaction the sizeable warrior would have that evening.

"In case you haven't noticed, not all Vikings are selfish and self-glorifying. Some of us have pointlessly good hearts," he grinned honestly to the boy, "Something tells me you might know a bit about trying to help everybody except yourself," he looked at Hiccup, acknowledging he would not receive any answer.

"I will meet you on the battlefield, young one," Fleshpetal said in a deep voice and started walking up the path.

The boy finally let out a breath and allowed his body to tremble. He had been afraid the whole time he was held, and the words the older warrior had spoken haunted his mind.

He had done what he thought would be best. He had heard a short, petrifying yell as he was walking back home and he rushed to help. He saw Astrid on what seemed to be her training place and carried her towards her home. Leaving her under Fleshpetal's care was a good choice.

What had the forceful man insinuated? That he was hurting the girl he cared about? How?

She did not like him winning, but he would continue to do so.

For the dragons. It seemed as if he almost said that... that _he_ was hurting _Astrid's_ feelings, but that was impossible! He never had meant anything to the beauty and he would never mean anything to her.

If this was a way for Fleshpetal to make him aware to step back from Astrid, he had already well gotten his point across. He really did not need to stir Hiccup's feelings and make him hope just when he tried to forget about his unachievable love, because... because Astrid was... who exactly?

_Bastard. _Fishpetal had made him hope again, and his mind already provided him with scenarios and possible outcomes of what was in Astrid's mind. He would not be able to silence these thoughts. It was the one thing out of his control. If only he could stop thinking for a moment.

Hiccup had spotted a change in Fleshpetal's walking and had seen his neck muscles, as well as his hands, grow tense, ready to attack.

Hiccup had had only a split moment to take out his dagger and hide it in his sleeve, right before he was smashed to the wall.

"At least your game came in handy Toothless," he expressed ironically, wiping his mouth with his arm.

He swiped with a hand through his hair and then stopped, looking at the dark ocean and the ships sailing on it.

The ships with their magnificent sails, pulled up and down by an ingenious system of ropes and pulleys.

Well!

Hiccup realized, looking at the ships on the ocean, that he had just been given an idea how to control the tailfin.

* * *

AN: I am really not satisfied with this chapter. A total drama, but yeah character development and such...There are too many things I want to show in my characters I guess. I am happy I explained to some people how comes people wake up at the same time without using the clock (biological clock is a good answer to it as well).

Comments are welcome if you find this chapter boring or not. Until the next chapter.


	21. Reality Check

AN: A big thank you to **Fjord Mustang** for helping me with my writing, as always. Happy reading.

* * *

The next morning started fresh and cool, to become warm and bracing after the morning mist cleared. Animals, feeling the change in the aura, started breeding rapidly. The increased amount of the young birds in the woods filled with chirps and cries of the hatchlings crying for food. Another cry soon joined, very distinctive and sounding very out-of-place in the usual animal kingdom.

"Woah-woah-woah, Toothless!" Hiccup yelled in fright, losing control of the flying path for yet another time, deviating from the circular pattern he tried to soar with the dragon. A wall of trees rushed towards them, leaving behind the howling of the wind and his terrified scream. He was grabbing the leather hand grip on the neck band with one hand as the other held the tailfin positioning rope, in anticipation of the impact.

Toothless stretched out his wings and bent his body backwards. Just before crashing against an exceptionally large specimen of the _Pinaceae_ family, the dragon flapped his powerful wings forward, in one powerful swing, teeth bared and eyes slit in agitation.

Four paws impacted with the tree trunk, boring claws into its core, and sending small, brown splinters of lignin flying around. Hiccup was cast forward, his chest hitting the Fury's neck hard.

Thankfully, Hiccup did not have to enjoy this experience for too long. Toothless, unable to keep himself attached to the tree with his claws, launched himself backwards with a mighty jump, causing Hiccup to scream again in surprise. Before the terrified teen was able to scream again, the agile beast rotated in the air in a quick and fluid somersault.

_Gods I just rolled over on a dragon! t_he amazed boy thought.

The dragon folded back his wings and then fell back towards the ground, a distance Hiccup estimated was around thirty elbows. As before, the youth coloured their fall with a loud cry, unaware he was breaking Toothless's concentration as he relaxed his legs outstretched, waiting to be near the soil to activate the _Battle Seer _and absorb the impact with his muscles and bones. The human was not helping at all.

They accelerated very fast and, with the speed of a diving hawk, they met the ground.

With a deafening crash, Toothless's legs plunged into the earth. The dirt shattered in explosion from the dragon's pressing mass, splintering around the submerging paws with a small cloud of dust. The dragon's belly lowered itself right after the legs, almost touching the soil, feeling the vibrations running through his legs.

Hiccup tried to stand in the stirrups, but as they crashed he was pressed back to the saddle with great speed. At least, the dragon thought, it stopped his annoying yelling.

The traumatised boy unhooked himself from the saddle harness, still silent and sucking his breath in. He climbed down from the dragon as lightly as possible and then, after a few unsteady steps, fell on his knees, hissing from pain. He turned to his dragon with a weak, forced smile to thank Toothless for letting him live for another couple of moments before they would attempt to fly again.

However, his gleeful facial expression disappeared almost instantly, replaced by one of true horror.

_Those eyes again!_ Hiccup's field of vision was replaced by two walls of toxic-greenness with two tiny dark slits in the middle.

The boy could only hear his deep breathing and insane heartbeat, afraid the blood pressure would cause his skull to blow up. He fell backwards, not able to break contact. He would die here and then. He only wanted it to be fast.

He did not die, in the end.

Toothless merely closed his eyes and let out a calm breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were still slitted, but only as his eyes would normally have been, the murderous aura gone.

Hiccup stood up, shaking and wiping his forehead with his uncovered forearm, his sleeves now rolled up.

The dragon pulled out his right foreleg first from the new hole in the ground, carelessly shaking off the earth pieces attached to it, then doing the same with his other limbs. The boy looked again at the crater they had created, astonished at the strength of his draconic companion.

He noticed that Toothless had problems with crash landings when he had first seen him, as he was probably injured and weakened. The Fury was now, most probably, healthy and strong again, and the boy would not dare guess if what Toothless had just achieved was the scaled creature's highest potential.

Hiccup had so many questions, but he would ask them at the proper time.

Fleshpetal had made him ponder how much he really knew about Astrid, Toothless and everybody around him. He had presumed what he thought about the others was right, but still kept avoiding closer contact with anyone, with the obvious exception of the deadliest of all creatures known to man.

He still believed that the way he acted around the golden-haired girl was the one and only proper way: make her forget about him instead of him getting involved in a useless one-sided chase.

He would not be so ignorant towards the dragon.

As the fear went away, the most precious part of his body let itself be known again with a numbing pain .

"Thor almighty! How this hurts," he squeaked in a high soprano.

Toothless licked his nose, which seemed to him to be the proper reaction to show Hiccup that he did not care about the boy's pain.

It hadn't exactly been a pleasant experience for the dragon, either, and he was in this whole situation because of that moaning biped in the first place!

"I might never have children because of you," Hiccup whispered with reproach.

The Fury snorted loudly in contempt, and the boy clearly understood the intent conveyed as "Oh, my, what a tragic pity!" said with a few centars of a very dark coloured humour.

Sometimes, Toothless also thought that the amount of stress the youth had been exposing him to might make _him_ infertile. It had happened to him before in his life, and he did not want to repeat it.

Five more whines and two curses were enough for Hiccup to gather himself together again. He took the rope in his left hand and, in a fluid movement, jumped on the saddle, using the dragon's powerful black elbow as a support for his hand. Toothless helped him every time by lowering his body and leaning towards the boy.

"Ready!" Hiccup said with confidence, after hooking himself to the saddle and looking back at the tail, positioning his invention in the take-off position. Both tail-fins were up, fully outstretched.

There were a few positions Hiccup had now figured out. Both tail-fins up, above the line of the tail, would cause the elevation. Both fins down would make the dragon decrease his height. The other role the tail had in steering was lateral turning. When the left tail-fin stood and the right lay flat, then Toothless would turn left. The reversed situation would cause the opposite direction shift.

The dragon had helped to explain the use of his huge, primary wings and the middle fins, placed beneath the primaries. The middle secondary fins were responsible for the rotation. With the right middle fin up and the left down, the Fury would roll right. Toothless had demonstrated it by rolling on the ground and ending on his back with his belly up. Hiccup commented this bit of wisdom with a laugh at the reclining, confused dragon, who now looked like a cute pup.

A second later, the boy had found himself moaning, holding his hurting head

With both tail-fins stood straight up, the two gigantic wings unfolded fully. Their task was not a brain-cracker for the small boy. They propelled the massive body forward, and this only told how powerful those membrane-covered limbs were.

After a few lightning-swift steps, they now accelerated, the boy's body leaning back from the force of the impulse. In one beat of the wings they were up, leaving a billowing cloud of dust behind. The wind started humming in Hiccup's ears again, and his body filled with joy. With a practiced movement, he moved the tail-fin to the right. Toothless rotated his body in the same direction, flying at an angle and they started their soaring-in-a-circle routine.

Hiccup wanted to land on a treeless spot outside the cove today.

This was one of the smaller goals he wanted to achieve. Preparations were complete. He knew how to control the tail, and the Fury could synchronise enough with him not to get them killed in their attempt. The boy frankly admitted after each of their failed attempts, he had only been able to walk unharmed out of cove each day, thanks only to Toothless' amazing abilities. He had always saved them from getting permanently injured. _Temporarily _injured was just fine.

"Ha!" Hiccup bellowed shortly and let the rope loosen a bit, lowering the tail-fin again to fly straight again. Toothless at the signal, grunted in agreement and rolled his body back to the levelled position and decreased the speed to land on a grassy field in front of them.

"Woaaaah!" the boy yelled warningly, seeing the approaching ground. To Hiccup's surprise, the dragon stopped almost instantaneously, and the youth was launched forward from the saddle as if from a catapult, continuing his trip alone. He landed on his feet and after a few rushed steps he stopped.

He wanted to shout to Toothless in joy, announcing to the dragon that they had finally gotten Toothless out from his cove, but then he saw the oddest image.

The fearsome Fury now squirmed and crawled among the mix of tall grass blades and wild mint plants, purring loudly. Hiccup chuckled loudly, seeing his normally dignified scaled companion enjoy himself, eyes closed in delight, lips baring countless fangs in a ruptured smile. Toothless squirmed to brush all parts of his body against the grass as if wanting to saturate all of himself with the scent of the plants.

A small hand reached down,plucked a few green stalks of the wild herb, and studied them.

_Who would have thought that ordinary Mountain Mint would have this effect on Night Furies?_ The boy mused and took a few more of these leaves, mostly used as a cooking ingredient. He put them into the inner pocket of his tunic, hoping he had just gotten another 'weapon' against the fire-breathing creatures.

He sat down and leaned against a tree, letting Toothless enjoy the grass a little longer. He gazed at the sight, feeling more than content with the happiness the dragon displayed. It was what Hiccup wanted to see and yearned for: to make the crippled Fury happy. Was it even possible?

As if hearing his thoughts, Toothless's head emerged from the green field with a foolish smirk and a very unfocused stare. His extremely dilated pupils rested on the small figure of the boy,and he quickly rose to his feet. He made an unsteady step and another one.

With a happy purr, the wobbling dragon sniffed Hiccup's head and then licked the boy's face. Despite Hiccup's yells of protest, Toothless continued his slobbery attack. Satisfied with the effect, the dragon curled by the teen who was trying to wipe his face with a fragment of his tunic. The sleepy dragon, after lying down, placed his head on Hiccup's lap, purring deeply.

Hiccup then no longer wanted to wipe his face. He wanted to touch the dragon. Hesitantly, he let his hand rest on the oval head. Toothless responded to the touch and, smiling, he pressed his side to the scrawny chest, rubbing slowly against it. The boy hugged the dragon's neck and the purring intensified.

They both daydreamed and let themselves linger for a while in this state where time disappears, along with everything else.

"Come on, bud. I wanted to show you something," Hiccup said softly, after a while, and Toothless licked his face once in response. The enchanted, intoxicated-looking Fury followed the boy, gently nipping the back of his tunic with his teeth, eyes closed and tail waggling.

They walked like two geese, with Hiccup leading the way and humming one of the melodies he had heard the fishermen sing when working.

A strong gust of wind ruffled the youth's red-brown hair and clothes while crashing waves filled his ears with the music of the ocean that came along with the strong smell of iodine.

"Here we are," Hiccup said, looking past his shoulder at the scaled head. Toothless opened his absent-looking eyes. With a few sniffs, the eyes slit and the smile disappeared from the ebony muzzle.

"This is one of my favourite points to watch the ocean," the boy smiled blankly, "I hope you are enjoying your first day out of your…your... prison," he spoke weakly, feeling overwhelming guilt.

As usual, such feelings were not given to him to last long. Toothless nuzzled his forehead gently… and then bashed the boy's head with his jowl.

Hiccup scowled, rubbing his head as the dragon passed him and approached the end of the cliff, outstretching from the land, high above the foaming, furious waters.

The sun glistened along iridescent scales and into focused eyes. Toothless pulled his body to its fullest height, standing proudly.

The boy could only gasp silently, amazed. This creature looked so magnificent, unbound, stronger than any other being! He was not a being one could control, nor one who was dependent.

This dragon was meant to be free, soaring above every problem the earth had to offer, where nothing could reach him. Here was not a place for this being, it all was wrong, just horribly wrong.

Toothless took a deep breath of the air, filling his lungs to their fullest. Neither the ridiculous-looking saddle nor the rugged piece of leather on his tail with the rope attached to it could take away the dignity radiating from him. Eyelids shut, his head rose high and he gave out a mighty, earsplitting, roar, erasing all other sounds, letting the world know he was alive and not giving up.

Hiccup gazed at this manifestation of primal force in astonished silence. After what seemed like a eternity to the motionless boy, the Fury stopped and in that split moment the world seemed to remain quiet. Hiccup blinked and Toothless was in front of him, fiery eyes looking deeply into his.

There was a question the young man was afraid to ask. Would the dragon now leave him? He was out of the cove, not stopped by stone walls anymore. Such a reaction would be proper and justified. Hiccup would accept it, even if his heart ached. It was not his decision, it never had been. He wished he could to read Toothless's eyes, just as he knew his were beseeching to the dragon.

A strong breeze blew from behind the staring Fury, and Hiccup's hair folded back, revealing all his fine-boned face.

The dragon bared his teeth, seeing the boy's stare, and lowered his body. He leaped forward towards the small human who did not do anything to avoid the beast. A sharp-fanged head collided with the boy, sending his fragile body into the air.

Hiccup soon dropped down, exactly on the saddle. Toothless had just pressed his head between the boy's legs and chucked his frame up and onto his back with one weak movement. Now the Fury was sprinting through the forest, avoiding trees with almost careless looking glances, heading ever deeper.

The boy's most unpleasant now- backward-sitting ride started as fast as it ended. His fingers did not let go of the saddle leather straps on the sides. He clutched them bravely until the end. That came when Toothless jumped high and the boy looked back and saw the well-known lake approaching.

"That's great," he only managed to mutter before hitting the water.

He actually meant it.

* * *

Three apparently was the magical number of the afternoon.

Hiccup was the third one to arrive on the Hill for the weapons training. He finished third in the warm-up race. He trained with the sword and shield with three bystanders gaping at him without any reservation. One happened to be an extremely unattractive lady. She was smiling, letting him know about her missing teeth at the front. He smiled back, trying to be polite. She giggled and grinned widely. The front teeth were not the only ones missing.

No more being polite to women for some time.

Then, as he dreaded, he was paired with Astrid.

_Do not meet her eyes! Do not meet her eyes!_ He repeated in his mind forcefully. W_elcome the new emotionless Hiccup! An unstoppable heartless warrior without a soul! Not showing any feelings to any-_

He looked up, meeting her face.

_Goodbye_,_ new emotionless Hiccup._

"Hello," he greeted shortly.

She knew about him and her collapse. Did she remember how he had carried her? He mostly hoped she did not remember that he kept his hand on one very wrong place for some time.

Hiccup could not be blamed. He had never carried a woman before in his life.

His ruffled emotions ended once he had a closer look at her face. How exhausted she looked! It was the first thing he thought about. He saw a few bruises and cuts on her pale skin.

It made him feel angry. He knew from whom those injuries came from. The only thing that did not change about her was the strand of hair covering the left side of her face.

However, her eyes were the part that had changed the most. They were cold, not the typical scrutinising gaze, rather one that made Hiccup think of the cold anger the dragon used to glare at him with.

_These _were dangerous eyes!

Astrid took her pose without uttering a syllable, and Hiccup mimicked her. His feelings disappeared, leaving only room for concentration and ideas. He managed to block the first blow with his shield, only guessing where it would fall, but he did not see the other two that came immediately after, almost like lightning strikes.

First his helmet rung and then his now-numb hand let his training stick drop. His elbow was in agony, struck just above the leather vambrace.

This was a hit meant to disarm and hurt. Attacking joints was a sure way to make the victim suffer for the next few days, and Hiccup was sure he would do exactly that. He could not complain, though; he was lucky the helmet took the blow, instead of his face. It was either pure coincidence, or a warning from the girl.

Hiccup did not believe in coincidences.

Three, indeed, was the magical number today.

"Get up!" Astrid barked through her teeth and flicked her head.

_She still looks lovely when she does that_, the boy thought, grabbing his weapon and standing up. He barely took his position when the fierce blonde dropped close to ground, spinning slowly, and then kicked Hiccup's knee with her outstretched leg. The boy immediately lost his balance and forcefully hit the ground. Even as he lay sprawled on his back and helpless, Astrid's weapon dropped and smashed on Hiccup's stomach.

He scowled and rolled on his stomach, gasping for air. Again, a hit perfectly attacked his elbow joint, just above the grey leather greaves.

"Stand up!" The furious girl said with calm anger, pacing from side to side.

Hiccup listened to that beautiful voice. He coughed a few times and took the stick up in his now shaking hand.

_So, it's been two hits now... I am going for the lucky one_! He thought ironically and for some reason he smirked, looking at the girl who had thunder in her eyes.

Astrid was fighting roughly. Attacking joints and striking him as he lay on the ground. His helmet rested on the grass as it felt off from his head.

Full service.

These were not training moves. They were not demonstrating anything or helping him learn. They were simply designed to teach him only one thing: pain. He wondered with humour how many more hits he could take before he was not able to move anymore. He immediately thought about the number three again, which caused him to smile even more.

The warrioress did not seem to share his "happy " thoughts, as her teeth glistened and her tired-looking eyes widened in anger at this alleged mockery.

Before Hiccup could even raise his shield, a dark-trousered leg hit his right side, just beneath the rib-line. His ribcage echoed a thud from the powerful attack. He had received blows to the elbows, knees, head and, now,the kidney. The boy pressed his hand to the stricken place, radiating with leg-buckling pain. He fell to one knee.

_Here's the lucky number blow_! He thought "happily," and he huffed a few distorted chuckles between the deep breaths.

"What's so funny?" Astrid hissed, panting as the beaten teen the front stood up shakily, his eyes appearing to shine more with each time the girl tried to break the boy's will. She had intended to end this in two or three hits.

As soon as she had seen him so close to her, something took control of her.

Hiccup had seen her when she was at her weakest and most vulnerable! He had helped her, and her hatred burned more because of that. He was her enemy! He was only a village clown, walking destruction. Useless, useless!

Her leg hooked Hiccup off balance and, dropping the training stick, she punched him with an opened palm in the jowl. The boy's light body dropped backwards, and he now lay sprawled out in the grass.

Astrid was puffing as if she had run a long distance.

The scrawny teen did not move. _Finally_, he stayed down on the ground. It had certainly taken her longer than she had anticipated, but she still was stronger. Better.

Soft laughter broke her thoughts.

Hiccup was still moving, and he was laughing. At her.

She would make him pay for this. Pay for seeing her weak. Pay for these perceptive eyes of his. Pay for being better than she. Pay for his smiling face. Pay for not leaving her thoughts.

Hiccup turned to his side and, supporting himself on his hands, tried standing. He found his weakened joints could no longer hold him up. So, he chortled louder as he dropped to the ground. It was so ironic he could not help himself. The girl he loved was now about to kill him. Nothing was more funny than this situation!

Unable to control herself, Astrid stepped to the squirming boy. Bending down, she grabbed him by his tunic, pulling his face closer to hers. He still smiled even with his body limp, not doing anything to defend himself, his eyes unfocused on anything.

Astrid trembled from the unceasing storm of emotions inside her.

"I'm sorry," she heard Hiccup whisper weakly. She gazed dumbfounded at her enemy. Why was he apologising to her?

The hated youth's eyes looked back at her from beneath his shaggy auburn hair, now soberly and with resignation.

"I'm sorry for doing anything that made you so mad," Hiccup mouthed, pure honesty soaking from those words.

He was supposed to hate her! Laugh at her! Yet, his straight face with dizzy eyes focused on her only expressed only apology and submission to whatever she wanted to do to him.

What_ was_ it she wanted to do? She forgot... oh, hit him.. Yes! Hit him and make him pay! His eyes started to burn her with a feeling she did not deserve, filling her with guilt and showing the full nonsense of the situation she had created.

_Stop looking at me in this way! _Astrid shouted in her thoughts, grabbing Hiccup's tunic harder. The boy still stayed limp, letting her reach her decision.

That small shard of sanity, making her hate herself for her actions for a short moment, died very fast, extinguished by her pride.

In a way, Astrid was grateful for what happened a moment later. She could not do anything, hanging in the void.

"Oy, sweetie!" a raised voice resonated shortly behind Astrid. She turned, and a fist connected with her face. She dropped Hiccup, hearing him fall heavily back to the ground and lie very still. She felt the side of her face getting numb.

The huge frame of Fishlegs hovered, kneeling, over Hiccup.

"Hiccup? Do you hear me?" he said loudly, tenderly lifting the youth's head and small shoulders up in his pan-sized hands.

Ruffnut stood in front of the fallen Astrid, watching as the scrawny boy slowly sat up, assuring his friends of his well-being.

"We need to talk," the girl twin said sternly, turning back to the person she had just hit, her stare heavy.

"Nobody is goin' t' talk with anyone!" Gobber's strong voice resounded, "Let me see him," he walked to Hiccup and looked at him, "How ar' ya?" he asked attentively.

"Fine," the injured teen said immediately, attempting to get up.

"Don't get up!" Gobber said sharply.

Tuffnut and Snotlout were slowly pacing on the side, stopping at a reasonable distance from the ruckus.

The smith asked where Hiccup had been hit, and did not receive any cooperation from the adolescent boy. Ruffnut provided all the details, as if she had watched carefully since the beginning. After carefully examining the youth's joints, testing them between his fingers while he supported them with his empty arm-stump, Gobber then pressed his hand against the ribcage, folding the tunic up, not caring about Hiccup's wince when his burns were partially exposed to view.

"I am fine!" the boy said with irritation and stood up, moving away from the forger's hand. Gobber looked attentively at the teen, who was pushing his tunic back down over his trousers, clearly annoyed with the protective attention he received.

"It appears so," Gobber stated slowly, his eyes probing Hiccup's proudly straightened posture. It took a lot of the youth's self-control not to succumb to the pain. He felt he had already caused enough problems for today.

"All right, you lot," the trainer said more loudly, "Everybody, leave yer weapons an' go an' eat somethin' in th' Mead Hall. B' back fo' th' next part of th' training!" he ordered. His frame then turned back to the one girl who was still standing behind him. By 'everybody' Gobber meant 'everybody except Astrid'.

Hiccup, reluctant to leave, took a step towards the blacksmith, trying to push away Ruffnut's hand off from his shoulder.

"Sir, I can explain..." he said, attempting to sound diplomatic.

His teacher's face deformed into a vengeful mask of fury, "This is not a request!" his voice dinned piercingly, startling the boy.

_Request...request_... the echo reverberated through the meadow. Hiccup looked one last time at Astrid's slumped posture before letting himself be guided by Ruffnut's hand, Fishlegs walking by his side in heavy silence.

The boy limped on his right leg, his knee letting him know about its not-so-good condition.

His mind worked hard, seeing order in the chaos of thoughts that had pushed Astrid to act like that. It was a punishment, that seemed obvious to him. He had done something to anger his training partner. But the usually quick appearing come-back did not come to his mind this time.

"Don't think about it too much," Ruffnut said vigorously, smiling reassuringly. Hiccup did not answer back. Such request was easier said than done.

The boy felt hungry and tried to concentrate on that feeling to scatter all other thoughts away. But he already knew that, no matter what he would do, thoughts of Astrid would surely not leave him.

* * *

Hiccup's heart missed a beat with every swung of the Mead Hall doors. He had more than hoped to see his attractive tormentor. Fishlegs chatted loudly with Ruffnut, sitting next to him, about the incoming training. Both of them sounded natural, however, the lack of booming laughter and their forcing him to join the talk was making it apparent as to why -or for whom- they were doing it.

Snotlout and Tuffnut sat at the table nearby eating and arm-wrestling at the same time. Hiccup's relative ate calmly while his friend tried to bend his hand, uttering with a tense and red face "Do you feel the power of the most deadly weapon yet?" and so forth.

The spoon travelled clumsily and sluggishly back and forth from Hiccup's mouth to his plate. The boy jerked again, and his eyes widened in hope as the doors opened suddenly. His enthusiasm dropped with the sight of another not-Astrid person. The misery of this fact was increased by Fishlegs trying to tell the lamest jokes under the sun, secretively glimpsing at him.

"A Viking fisherman is sailing near Berk and has trouble putting up his sail," Fishlegs started his fabulous jest, "As he is pulling at the rope and nothing happens, he hears a voice behind him that says:

'You need to grease the pulleys.'

"He looks behind him and sees nothing, just a Gronkle hovering behind him, and it flies away when he screams.

"Terrified he might have heard a ghost, he abandons ship, jumps overboard and swims to shore. A Berk farmer pulls him out, dries him off and gives him some mead to drink. The Viking seaman tells his story about this strange happening of hearing a mysterious voice advising him to grease the pulleys, but only seeing a Gronkle flying overhead- some supernatural thing was happening!

"The Berk Viking says, 'Tell me, now, did this Gronkle happen to be browner than usual?'

'Yes!'

'And did he have a white mark on his chest?'

'Yes!'

'And were his eyes slightly crossed?'

'Oh, yes!'

"The Berk farmer laughed and waved his hand sarcastically, 'Oh, THAT Gronkle! Don't listen to him. He doesn't know anything about pulleys!'

Hiccup snorted, almost spitting out food from his mouth. That was a good one! He looked apologetically at the talking pair. Ruffnut looked bored, her mouth slightly opened, but upon seeing Hiccup's almost choke after the snort, her laugh thundered out.

"Fishy," she said after a few giggles, "Would you mind getting me a mug of water, please?" she said with a grin.

Fishlegs rose up immediately, saying, "Of course," in agreement.

"From the barrel by the counter,if you would be so kind," she put her hand on his giant arm.

The powerful-looking teen smiled and stepped out from the bench. He did not ask why it was he who should get a drink for Ruffnut, and from the barrel by the counter, of all things. There was one closer. He did not ask as if he did understand the motives behind that strange request. He _did _understand them very well.

He walked slowly towards his goal, engaging in a simple conversation with a small group of young Vikings, drinking by the table nearby.

Just next to them, Snotlout sat with his best friend. Only one of them ate, despite two plates being positioned by the youths' arms. They were trying to scoop the stew into the spoons with their left hands, whilst keeping their eyes on their right arms. Palms squeezed tightly, they were still arm-wrestling. Snotlout ate without any stress, keeping his arm as straight as a watch tower. Tuffnut tried to put some food into his mouth, but then the black-haired boy bent his hand dangerously. It took the weaker boy a lot of huffs to get the hand up again.

"Feeling the power of the most devastating weapon in the world?" Tuffnut puffed out, his eyes almost leaving their sockets, his face as red as a Nightmare's hide. They seemed to enjoy each other even if the winner of this contest was obvious since the beginning.

Hiccup masticated a boiled carrot much more than it was necessary, and he still could not bring himself to eat any faster.

Ruffnut moved closer, very close with Fishlegs absent, giving them more privacy. The boy's chewing accelerated, the speed almost hurting his jaws. He swallowed nervously, and grinned, thus revealing the small piece of carrot, which unbeknownst to him, ornamented his frontal teeth.

With glistening eyes, Hiccup's female table companion moved her face rapidly towards his, stopping inches from him with an smile. She put her hand on the blushing youth's spoon-wielding palm.

"I've always liked you," she said in a seductive tone. Hiccup almost choked to death with the air he could not breathe in. He wanted to say something back, but his mouth simply opened and closed as a fish taken out of the water.

Ruffnut batted her eyebrows a few times more for better effect, and then her face broke into uncontrollable laughter, grabbing her stomach and waggling back and forth. Hiccup was still red from the girl, who had now fallen and was rolling on the floor. He concentrated on his food, blessing his hair for concealing his face -at least partially-, eating hastily.

"I couldn't help myself, sorry for that," Ruffnut emerged from beneath the table, grabbing her helmet from the floor and sat again, closely, but no wtithin Hiccup's private space.

"At least you forgot about _her_ for a moment," the devilishly-smirking girl stated, looking at the young smith apprentice with a face so serious it made him forget about his embarrassment and calm down his mind.

The way Ruffnut said that, clarified her knowledge about Hiccup's feelings. The boy did not feel surprised about this discovery.

"Is it so obvious?" he asked, nonchalantly. There seemed nobody who did not know about his pathetic love-life.

"Very," Ruffnut answered simply, with one of her ever-present smirks.

The wooden spoon suddenly dropped with a clatter, scattering the vegetables around the clay dish as Hiccup hissed and grabbed his left elbow, attempting to massage it. Any movement with his hand posed a problem, the youth noted. He immediately returned to his prior position when he noticed Ruffnut observing him.

Before the adamant youth managed to make another clumsy movement to take his cutlery, a lean hand grabbed it, scooped stew in it and raised it up towards his mouth.

Getting flushed finally seemed like a quite decent idea all of a sudden.

"What are you doing?" he hissed quietly, praying nobody was seeing this.

"Feeding you, dumbass," Ruffnut said in an angelic tone.

"Can you-?"

"I can't," she cut him off in a stern voice, "And if you don't start eating, I will make a scene fifty times sweeter," she added threateningly, but with her face on her hand, looking bored.

"I can eat by myself!" Hiccup objected, his tone harsher. Ruffnut did not waste any moment, she left the spoon and squeezed the youth's left elbow delicately with the same, uninterested features. The scrawny boy winced immediately and pulled his hurt limb to his chest, letting out a loud breath through the nose, eyes squeezed shut.

Ruffnut waited patiently, looking serious and when the boy opened his eyes again, she picked the utensil, filled it with stew and tried again.

Hiccup, with dropped eyes, ate the offered food, chewing and swallowing it fast. There was nothing extraordinary or sensual in Ruffnut feeding him now. It was like feeding a cripple. Was this the way Toothless felt all this time?

Hiccup swallowed another offered mouthful. He glanced at his food-giver.

"You look quite composed when feeding somebody," the youth noticed.

Ruffnut smiled in answer and wiped his chin from the leftover food with a finger, causing Hiccup to blush, "Let's just say I've had a lot of practise," she said humorously. The topic was not discussed any further.

Almost at the same moment, the doors opened again and, from the curtain, Astrid appeared, looking as tired as before, keeping her head low.

She bumped into somebody, mumbled a quick apology and, after quickly nicking, the first nearest plate, she hurried to the table at the far end.

The bench creaked as Hiccup started to stand up, zeal painted on his face.

"You can't help her," Ruffnut threw out, slowly stirring the boy's stew.

She grabbed his wrist gently, being careful not to add any more pain as he made a movement to leave anyway, dismissing her words.

"You are not the one who can help her now," she rephrased in her hoarse voice, glaring soberly at the youth.

"I need to do something!" he uttered with desperation.

"You can't," she repeated.

"Then who can?" his voice angered.

"Nobody can," Ruffnut stated, looking unflustered, "You need to understand that she needs her space for now. I do understand how you feel," she said, averting her head to look at Astrid as well. Her words irritated the boy, who trembled in exasperation. What could she possibly know?

"You feel guilty because you think it is your fault that she acted the way she did. You are angry at yourself for not being able to stop her. When she hit you, you wanted to be punished for whatever it was you did wrong to her."

Hiccup remained still, listening to the quiet voice continue.

"Knowing the actual reason was not important, the important thing was the pain you felt. Now you do not know what to do, but you want to do anything, selfishly pushing forward your desire to redeem yourself in her eyes. Should I co?" Ruffnut asked, putting her head on her hand again, not keeping hold of the boy anymore.

Hiccup sat heavily. A stew-filled spoon appeared in front ontinuef him.

"Eat. You need your strength. We all need your strength," she said with a quick simper.

He complied.

The din strengthened as a new group of people poured in. Luckily, none of them noticed Hiccup sitting by the wall, his scrawny silhouette secreted into the dimmed space.

The spoon now hit the bottom of the empty bowl.

"I'm happy you have decided to support me," Hiccup said openly with a weak smile.

"I do not do it for yourself. I just want for us to get out of this training alive," Ruffnut said evenly, leaning back carelessly, "It would be better if you brought out your more crazy self soon," she winked to the straight-sitting boy flirtingly, "That's when I like you the most."

Fishlegs appeared shortly and noticed Hiccup,red-faced, and the teasing girl laughing. It was good to feel that even by merely going to fetch a mug of water you could actually be helping somebody with their problems.

* * *

There had been no chance at a victory since the beginning. There was still too much chaos, lack of understanding of each other, and their opponent was exploiting these weaknesses with practised ease.

Hiccup was not surprised with that, not at all. Fleshpetal had said that they would meet on the battlefield. The sarcastic youth just did not expect it to happen so soon.

Just after Gobber received a short "Yes," upon asking if the injured boy was ready to fight, they jumped right into the fight.

Hiccup was trying to come up with any ideas to win and give orders. But nothing seemed to work so far.

The young commander did not try to take the six teenagers heads on, instead running to the woods.

The scrawny boy strung an arrow right before Fleshpetal started hastening, having discerned the change in his movements. His elbow flared with pain and the usual fluid movement took him longer; also, he could not muster all his strength. The weakly released arrow missed the escaping man, digging into the soil as Hiccup had aimed it low, not wanting to severely injure the man.

Snotlout and Tuffnut, without waiting for the command, sprinted after their target, ignoring the small boy yelling to them to stop.

"Only cowards hide! Fight like a Viking!" Snotlout said loudly with spite, meeting the tree line with his friend. They did not speed further, but walked slowly, looking intently around.

_Of course he ran! It is clearly a tactical retreat! He will use the trees to his advantage to strike and retreat_, _just like Gobber used the darkness! _Hiccup cursed mentally, getting his bow struck as fast as he could with his hurting arm.

"Orders?" Ruffnut said quickly, staying low by the boy's left side with her shield up. Fishlegs was on his right in the same position and Astrid farther behind him, but keeping her defensive stance as the others.

"Fishlegs shield me! Ruffnut in front of me, on my left side!" he shouted, sensing the rush of the upcoming battle fill him up, "Astrid!" he exclaimed, not looking behind himself, "Front on my right!"

His team took the positions immediately. Hiccup had to be shielded, as he did not have any defence while shooting, and Fleshpetal was carrying a bow on his back.

The arrow tip trembled as the boy tried to keep it aimed at the front, waiting for their enemy to appear. Hiccup knew it would happen soon. He felt it.

"Walk forward! Shields up!" he ordered and they marched toward the woods, "Remember, we stick together!"

Gobber observed them intently, sitting on the basket, chin against his fist. He did not fall asleep as he had earlier, when the accident with Astrid happened.

Tuffnut's and Snotlout's croaking laughter tumbled through the woods. The unit behind them was able to spot them from afar.

_They are betraying their positions! Why did they stop watching the surroundings and start talking to each other?_!

Hiccup only waited for the moment Fleshpetal would appear to strike the devastating blow.

A silhouette blurred in front of the gleeful teen, appearing like a shadow from behind the trees. In two, precise strikes, he sent the boys to the ground, whining in pain.

Hiccup released the arrow, which struck the tree, behind which Fleshpetal had just hidden after his sneak attack.

"My face! It hurts! It so much hurts!" Tuffnut moaned dramatically, rolling on the ground.

"My balls!" Snotlout breathed weakly.

"Yer out!" Gobber yelled sharply, "Get yerself up and I want ya here! Now!"

The defeated duo sprung to their feet, miraculously forgetting about their agonising pain.

"Nice job, idiot!" Ruffnut said shortly to her brother as he passed by them, running to the waiting blacksmith.

Now, the group reached the tree line. The woods were humming quietly before them. Hiccup took a breath, put his bow on his back and drew out the small sword Gobber had given him earlier. In such confined space and in a group the bow would be slower. The adversary would be able to strike and hide himself back easily before he was even able to fire an arrow.

They kept together as planned. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, but they still lost.

Indeed, Fleshpetal using a net to trap a group had not been something he had anticipated. Only Astrid managed to roll out on the ground, right before the net trapped the other trainees.

Their enemy jumped from the branch above them.

Hiccup was able to glimpse at their enemy before they started. He wore a brown-coloured leather armour, light and silent. His gauntlets held a hand-long, one sided axe with a spike on the other side of the blade. He did not wear any head protection, his hair neatly pulled into a ponytail hanging down his back.

Astrid lunged at Fleshpetal with a sharp yell. Before she reached him, a chain with a weighted tip, twisted around her, tangling her. She fell on the ground, hitting a tree with her uncontrolled fall. Fleshpetal then ran to the rest of the trapped team, avoiding Ruffnut's jab with the spear she had managed to poke through the net, and he punched all of them on the body.

Hiccup would have said that he was gentle with them. The hits almost did not hurt and were more of a symbol that that the battle was over. He even helped them to get out of the net, not bothering to free Astrid, still worming on the ground.

The scrawny teen pitied the downed girl, but he also felt resentment towards her. Why did she not free them? Surely four of them could do more than only one!

"Why didn't you free us?" Ruffnut yelled angrily to the downed warrioress.

"We have lost 75 percent of our battle power because of this!" Fishlegs said, swinging his hammer in rarely shown choler.

Hiccup sighed, "It's all right," he spoke, silencing his fellow teammates, who now both had a surprised look on their faces, "We still can try again, right?" he stepped to Astrid to get the chain off her. The snarling girl however, had another opinion about _this_ boy trying to help her.

"I can do it myself!" she hissed abruptly, looking like an angry cat. After squirming futilely, she finally rolled herself on the ground. After a few turns, the chain fell off her. Without any word, she snapped up her axe and walked quickly in the direction of the Hill.

"Stop thinking it is your fault!" Ruffnut said to Hiccup who was standing at the side, miffed. She quickly followed Astrid, swearing loudly.

Carrying the folded net and chain, Fleshpetal accompanied the remaining boys out of the woods in silence. Hiccup noticed that the brail was large, weighted by the stones at the bottom. It was the same type that was used to trap the Terrors. The leather-armoured man had not carried such a contraption when the youth saw him earlier today. This must have meant that he had it prepared somewhere in the woods.

On the Hill, Hiccup saw Tuffnut and Snotlout, punished of their insubordination by doing pushups and shouting, "Please forgive my idiocy!".

Gobber was beating the tempo with a stick he whammed against his peg leg.

The wheezing boys always behaved much more obediently after getting quality time with Gobber.

The smith limped aside with Fleshpetal, listening to his whispered report with great attention.

Hiccup used that time to discuss his next plan. Ruffnut kept herself away from Astrid.

_So they've argued... great! Hurray for Hiccup_,_ keeping the team morale up!_ He thought, his self-confidence quickly melting.

His mind ran to Toothless, thinking of how much the dragon had sacrificed for him. The proud Fury could have run away, but the elusive beast decided to go back to his prison, instead carrying the person who had crippled him on his back. Hiccup did not deserve such a gesture, but he had been granted it, and the very selfish part of him was happy that Toothless had chosen to stay.

Tuffnut and Ruffnut started bickering, Snotlout tried to flirt with Astrid, who, the boy swore, had a murderous look in her eyes. It was irritating, he could not concentrate.

"Quiet!" he screamed and the meadow fell silent, all eyes directed at him. He took a deep breath.

"Sir!" he said in the direction of the blacksmith, who had a kind smile on his face, "I would like to request wooden weapons for this part of the training, please," he said confidently to his master.

"Of course!" Gobber answered naturally before any of the trainees could say anything, and exchanged looks with Fleshpetal, who nodded in agreement, "Anything else you might need?"

Hiccup asked for other equipment.

Through the afternoon, they experimented with various weapons and shields. Changed formations and tactics. But nothing worked. Something was missing.

They fought for a long time, until the sun started to set. And the darkness was not the only thing that started to fall.

"Enough of this crap!" Snotlout was the first to say what he thought loudly, wiping out his dirt-covered forehead as the group rested on the grass to talk about the tactics for the next battle, "We will never win this!"

"Yeah, I agree," Tuffnut said, letting out the long stick he used as a weapon.

"Are you giving up?"Fishlegs asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

"No! What I mean is, why won't we let somebody else give orders around here?" Snotlout said, looking around.

"Like ...you?" Ruffnut voiced suspiciously, glaring from beneath her cocked helmet.

The proposing boy, grinned widely, "Not me! ...I vote for Astrid!" he said loudly, his head turning to the mentioned girl on this last sentence.

Hiccup was sitting still, catching on the words after a short delay. He could not gather his focus or arrange his thoughts. Pain drenched everything. He kept his arm close to his body. His elbow was letting him know of its condition whenever he tried to swing the wooden weapon or fire a training arrow, the kind that had a small woollen sack filled with sand tied at the top.

The longer they fought, the worse he performed. The only thing he was thinking about, now, was when this training was going to end, so he could go and rest. Tend to his wounds. He would need to clean himself first. Sauna bath sounded nice. There he would be warm. He would take a few woollen towels and kept his bruised bones warm. It would stop the pain.

"What do you think Hiccup?" Ruffnut asked him. The boy caught his name and needed a moment to gather his composure to answer.

_Toothless, give me your strength_! He thought about the dragon and his proud image by the ocean. He would not give up.

The pain became only a small pulsating spot at the back of his mind, letting him think.

"We tried everything I thought of. A leadership change could bring a new perspective," he said wearily. Astrid, after the first fight, had followed Hiccup's orders without any complaint or shown reluctance. She was not talking to anybody, not even answering Snotlout's sleazy endeavours to accost her.

However, she reacted to the proposition_, _and her face livened with attention and energy.

Without any waste of time, she took the charge and after receiving the instructions, they charged into the battle.

And this time, they won.

Only their teacher's reaction to that seemed far off from the desired one.

* * *

"What were ya thinkin', ya skull-smashed gnomes!" Gobber roared at Astrid and Hiccup, who were standing in front of his agitated self. Fleshpetal was standing by the yelling teacher's side, looking sternly at the blonde girl's blue eyes.

Astrid's was standing, strung tight as a bowstring, taking the scolding with an impassive face, showing some dignity. Which could not be said about the slouched boy who was thinking only about going home, and falling on the bed... and...

"Usin' Hiccup as a live shield to grab th' enemy an' then strike?" Gobber yelled into Astrid's face.

...'d be better if he went to Toothless and slept there. The dragon would maybe allow him to sleep by his side again? How he yearned not to sleep alone any longer! But that knee was killing him and the cove was quite far away.

"An' ya!" he stepped rapidly with finger pointed accusingly at Hiccup, "How could ya play along with it! Where was yer mind? Being pushed forward an' then grabbing Fleshpetal t' stop him?" He bellowed and took a deep breath, looking at the pain-filled eyes, "How is yer leg?" He asked in a softer tone.

"Excellent, Sir!" Hiccup replied in a strong voice.

"Good," Gobber nodded and put a hand behind his back, "Go home an' rest," he said, turning and pacing back to Astrid.

The auburn-haired boy looked uncertainly at the girl one last time, as he knew he was officially dismissed and walked away, trying to do it as quickly as possible_, _without limping or cursing.

"In a real battle ya would've lost a man," the moustached blacksmith spoke with constricted anger.

"But we won," Astrid spoke back shortly.

"Unacceptable," Gobber even shorter retort came immediately.

"Occupational hazard, Sir!" the axe-wielding girl said.

The trainer's face reddened with fury, "As leader, it's _yer_ job to minimise the risk! D'ya even know when tha' saying ya used was invented?" His goggled eyes and his face made it clear it was a rhetorical question, "This sayin' was forged right after our ancestors arrived here. So many of us died then, it wa' a joke. Just a sarcastic way to describe tha' even being born as a Viking is makin' ya most likely killed! An' this is what it was! Something t' help people cope with reality. A joke! An' this is how I see yer victory today! As a joke!" he yelled at the motionless soldier-girl tensing below his impressive height.

Gobber took a deep breath, "From wha' I understood, ya pushed Hiccup into Fleshpetal as he wa' close in hope tha' th' boy would provide a sufficient distraction for th' other team members t' strike effectively. Is tha' correct?" he queried, leaning back.

"Yes, Sir," Astrid answered.

"Did ya inform yer fellow soldier of th' risk he would be takin' an' of th' incoming fight?" The bulky man asked.

"No, I did not, Sir," Astrid said, her voice not as strong as in the previous answer.

"Did ya know thought about this ...'plan' let's call it, before th' combat?" Gobber continued his questioning.

"No, I did not, Sir," the cloth-stained girl uttered, her confidence and pride rapidly evaporating with the passing time.

The weapon-maker twisted his moustache around his finger and while twirling it, he looked pensively at Astrid.

She had a strong desire to escape this look, penetrated by it and that her feelings and motives were being analysed. She did not want them to be seen through,since she was not sure of them, herself.

"Let's summarise it, shall we?" Gobber asked and let his moustache go, "Ya hav' ordered th' group t' follow yer strategy_, _ which did not work. Seein' tha' ye were losin' control on th' battlefield,ya pushed th' nearest soldier at th' enemy because...?" He hung his voice expectantly.

"He was barely moving...not attacking together with the others. I wanted for us to win!" She said, her voice completely unconvincing. Astrid started realising what she had done and what the next thing her teacher said would be. It was so shameful of her not to think of it.

"Yes...a noble cause. However," Gobber paced to the side, putting his hand on his chin in a pretended thinking expression, "As far as I've observed, Hiccup earlier showed a lot of energy and was quite capable on th' shield training. It makes me wonder... did anything happen just recently tha' made Hiccup lose most of his vigour and perhaps...just perhaps, tha' made his movement painful? Any ideas?...," he turned his face back to the girl, "...Astrid?" he drawled this word through his teeth.

What had she done? How could this have happened?

Her body stiffened again as she raised her head up, "I let myself be guided by anger and_, _therefore_, _I injured my fellow soldier on the training session. I did not consider the possibility that he continued to suffer from it. I endangered the health and lives of my teammates. I am ready to accept any consequences!" She said that in full volume. It helped a little to let the guilt out.

Gobber quickly exchanged looks with Fleshpetal. The blacksmith smiled and the younger trainer visibly relaxed.

"Very good!" The older warrior put his big hand on her shoulder, "Excellent. Ya see it. Ya cannot be blamed for all of it,though," he said absent-mindedly, "Hiccup, that moronic rascal! Instead of tellin' 'bout his condition straight away, he hid it and pretended everythin' was fine," he huffed tiredly, "I'll need t' talk to that boy later about it."

"I don't think it will change anything," Astrid said out loudly and covered her mouth at once with a shocked expression.

That made both men laugh.

"I think yer right!" Gobber agreed, grinning, and then walked to the basket to take out a big, double-bladed axe, "Here ya go," he put it into the girl's hands. Astrid knew what that meant straight away, "Yer last task fo' today,"

He and Fleshpetal paced to the trees by the path, descending to the village.

"How d' ya find today's trainin'?" Gobber asked the armoured youth. The latter thought for a moment before answering.

"I expected something... _more_ from it to be honest. Especially from Hiccup. His strategies were all quite original but lacked a certain...,"

"...Flair?" Gobber supplied kindly.

"Yes," Fleshpetal smiled in agreement, "In the beginning Hiccup's plans were most threatening, but as the training progressed they became... dull and repetitive. His injury was probably hindering his concentration," he thought again, "The other trainees weren't bad. Snotlout had to be taken out as first since he was probably most dangerous with his unpredictable actions. Astrid was too far away from the group when Hiccup was the leader, not reacting in time to orders," he chuckled humorously, "And I tried to stay as far away from Fishlegs as possible. He still needs some weapon training, but whenever he swung that stick, it made me scared," he then said with a small smile, "The twins fight similarly, but Tuffnut follows orders very well, which made her one of the most valuable team members today."

They marched in silence. The swooshing woods neared.

"Can I ask ya somethin'?" the forger said nonchalantly to his companion.

"Certainly," the younger male answered with a nod.

"I d' not mean t' sound like I'm cuttin' into yer matters with Astrid, but I've heard something, ya know... th' typical gossip. Nothin' anyone could believe,"

He raised his hand defensively, talking in a polite tone, "Anyway, I've heard, believe or not, tha' yer family already arranged for ya to marry a wife from another tribe. I would congratulate ya if not for th' fact ya seem t' be very interested in our angry blonde girl," he said, as if dismissing all the things he just said

"It only made me question why ya, a person from such reputable and prominent family, would so suddenly b' interested in a girl ya hav' never seemed t' be interested in before?" He formed it as a question but continued, as if amusing himself with his thoughts, "An' I've also heard -oh,my, this gossip! ...so addicting!- that yer family did not take well to yer interest in an immigrant's child. There were even rumours of them reconsidering ya gettin' married!"

"If..." he raised his finger "-just if!- This was true... I only hope for tha' poor girl ya hav' chosen t' use in yer games not to be hurt. Would ya agree with me?" He eyed Fleshpetal, observing him intently.

The young's man face was unreadable as he smiled, as Gobber observed, with the only smile he possessed, beautiful and making you believe in everything he said.

"Of course, Sir. It is just gossip. Who would have believed it?" He laughed his pearly laugh.

"Indeed," Gobber grinned, still looking at his conversation partner, "Who would?"

* * *

The weight was fine.

She should have felt humiliated, chosen as the worst trainee to carry the axe above her head. There had been too many _shoulds_ and _woulds_ today. She felt calmer now, but how long would it last? As Hiccup changed, she changed with him. The better he got, the more frustrated she had become. A constant fight between agitation and reason. And the logic was losing more and more often.

She corrected her grip on the axe, the blade hanging above her head, evening the weight out on both hands.

Since this was a period of time when she could think straight, she wanted to get some things in order so the situation of today would not happen again.

She had always been competitive and liked to win, but never at the expense of somebody else. Never acting like a low bully, punching a person who did not even want to defend himself. That boy was a bad influence on her. She did not feel that way towards Snotlout, who was better than her at the sword. Or Fleshpetal, who was better at almost everything.

It was only Hiccup.

It was not only because he kept on winning. There was something in him which irritated her. His laughably small posture, full of uncertainty, and his lack of self-confidence.

And the raising respect she felt towards him. She now saw him as something more than a village clown. He was clumsy and awkward, but also smart and courageous when the situation demanded, never complaining, always trying his best. It was impossible to dismiss all of it without feeling even a bit of respect towards the clumsy youth.

Ruffnut was already on his side, and Fishlegs had been since the beginning. He kept winning over people's trust without a powerful voice or big muscles. It was weird, original, interesting and, again, irritating.

Whenever Astrid felt a bit of positive feelings towards Hiccup, angry thoughts took her over. She had had far too numerous encounters with the positive aspects about this strange boy. Why could she not let him out of her head?

Aside all these cogitations, there was another reason, which was the main cause or her behaviour and raising irritation. Her fight with that dangerous, growing feeling she could not seem to control or handle.

She was always in control! There was nothing she could not handle. Nothing that would terrify her.

She kept repeating herself that it was not true, not Hiccup! He was her enemy, somebody to defeat.

She could not allow herself to be swayed with emotions anymore. Just keep her distance and train as always.

However, she first had to rest and have a long sauna bath.

And dearly hope thoughts about Hiccup would not start crawling back into her mind.

* * *

It was hopeless. There were simply too many factors prohibiting his progress with the new tailfin control system. Receiving the idea was one thing, putting it into action was another.

He had made several sketches the night before, all now lying scattered on the floor with the saddle and the tailfin lying on top of them. A thick sailor rope, placed nearby and coiled in a circle, had a yellowish tint in the fire glow.

He had gotten this idea suddenly, in one of these strokes of brilliance as if he had been hit by lightning ...or punched.

He _had_ been punched, so he considered it to be the propellant that pushed his mind to come up with the plan.

The contraption he had built for Toothless to substitute his original tailfin could be treated simply as a sail. It caught wind, and, by altering its course, you were able to control the body. In the case of a sail, the ship. In the case of the tailfin, the dragon. It seemed so simple.

Sails were controlled by the cords attached to their ends, and, by pulling or releasing the ropes you were able to adjust them. He wanted to do the same with his dragon-related invention.

Use thick ropes to control not only the opening of the gadget, but also the angle in which it stood. The rest came fast. Hands were not a good way to control since they were too much affected by the shakes and not precise enough. He listed what he needed from the invention.

Precision, ease of use, securing his position when flying, foolproof, easy to maintain and repair.

He pondered hard on how to connect all of these requirements into the one device.

Saddle stirrups seemed like a good way to start. They would keep him secured in the saddle, and manoeuvring with his legs would enable him to focus on what was in front of him. A rather vital skill to survive on the back of a speeding dragon.

A precise length of rope would come directly from the tail and go up to his left stirrup. He would make some sort of a paddle that would be able to control the length by wobbling it forward or backwards.

The control line would need to connect with the paddle after running through series of hole-slots in leather circles that the dragon would keep on his legs. These should make the controls smoother, just the way sail controls were running through a series of pulleys.

The tailfin angle control cord would be running on Toothless's right side and going first through the hole-slot, placed on the leather belt, mounting the artificial tail to the dragon's body. Then it would go straight into the hole-slots on the leg's harness.

Installing the addition should not take long, since there were only light modifications to implement, with the exception of the pedals. These would take some delicate metalwork to make stirrups look like iron sandals.

He would have done it today, if not for his condition.

Hiccup submerged a white piece of cloth in the warmed water, sitting on a stool in front of the hearth.

He took out the woollen fabric and, after rubbing a bit of soap into it, he started cleaning his body. With the stitches, he would not risk going to the sauna or taking a bath. The warmness of the cloth relieved him momentarily from the pain as he pressed it to his elbow.

His hand was unable to move well, so there was no possible way he would be able to do any manual work tonight. Furthermore, fatigue added to a hurting body was not a good combination for concentration.

The pitiable remains of his clear mind were solemnly set at occupying Hiccup with thoughts of Astrid beating him, yelling at him, and using him as a live-shield.

Something told him hate might have to do something with it, but just what had he done to her? He did not know. It might have been his enchanting demeanour, which made him the star of Berk society, despite his scrawnyness.

Feet on a leather pelt, he scrubbed them with his right hand, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to go and visit Toothless. Actually, there was not a moment he did not want to do that.

But given his knee condition, he did not find it a good idea, and the dragon might not be happy to see him so lame.

He needed to rest first. He would only rest for a moment and then go and see Toothless at night.

He yawned and took off his father's leather cloaks, hanging by the wooden pole planted in the supporting column.

He would sleep in front of the hearth, curled up, as he liked to do when he was a kid.

He stopped in the middle of his way back to the fire, cloak hanging loosely on his arms, most of it sweeping the floor behind him.

Did he actually like to do that when he was younger?

The cold floor caused him to jump quickly to the fur, lying on the ground.

He lay down and quickly covered himself with his father's garment. The feeling and the smell was the same as he remembered. It was peculiar, since he was not aware before, that he used to do that, not until this moment.

His breath slowed and calmed quickly with the fire cracking calmly, lulling him to sleep, exactly as in the past.

* * *

The sun shone through the knobbed wood, teasing his long-opened eyes. Still droplets glistened on the static black scales around his curled body. Toothless smelled the fresh and cleared air after last night's rain.

Sounds of life in the forest were buzzing in his ears with the leading role of the woodpecker, which seemingly chose as a point of honour to make one specific dragon crazy with the knocking of its beak against wood.

Even though it was morning, he already felt deprived from energy. Sluggishly, he stood up. The droplets ornamenting his skin were casted into motion, spotting the brown earth with drizzle.

Toothless froze momentarily, afraid he might have had disturbed _somebody's_ sleep. He looked down, under him. But his tree bolt-hole was empty. The circular depression in the soil marked the spot of his night's sojourn.

Hiccup had not come as he had said he would.

Toothless sighed deeply. He had been angry at the Scalgertar yesterday for not visiting him and, now, he was only filled with a pricking disappointment.

He had to move his body and get rid of the night's coldness residing in his muscles. His training routine went smoothly, he did not concentrate on any movement his body made, thinking about his clanmate and worrying what might have happened to him. His clan did not seem welcoming towards Hiccup, and it made the dragon's concern even more vivid.

After another lighting barrel roll, he landed and suddenly crashed with his left side on the ground.

His left forward knee throbbed with pain, along with the right bottom one. He must have made a mistake when practising, yet he did not remember the last time he had made an error like this.

He rested, lying in front of the fire-stone, now cold and dull grey, head on his forepaws, gazing at the wall-opening. Without the loud presence of the small boy, everything seemed less interesting, except gazing at the never-changing crack in the stone and waiting for Hiccup to show up.

That was utterly fascinating and captivated all of the dragon's attention.

Toothless would never show it in front of Scalgertar, but he missed the scaleless mammal.

_Only one sun cycle has passed, he must just be occupied with his human matters, nothing to be alerted about_, he kept repeating himself. A small particle of him sensed that Hiccup was alive and well.

The evening came quickly. The motionless Fury blinked his three eyelids and took a standing pose, showing nothing but superiority and strength. No feelings of missing the human were included.

His act, however, was destroyed as he heard Hiccup stopping in front of the entrance and taking several deep, ragged breaths.

Looks like Toothless was not the only one trying to act here.

"Toothless, don't scare me like that!" the youth exclaimed, seeing the big head, looming over him right in front of the entrance. The dragon's eyes were far from welcoming.

"I brought you fish, see?" Hiccup said carefully with a goofy smile. The ebony beast narrowed his eyes and twitched his nose, not looking interested in the deliciously smelling gift.

With a sigh, the boy dropped his happy act and limped resolutely, straight into the cove, not presenting the Fury with an eye contact.

Toothless let the pup hobble by him, dropping the basket and the saddle. The latter looked slightly different from when the dragon saw it the last time.

"Let's not do anything drastic, shall we?" Hiccup said warningly, directing the words behind himself as he limped to the fallen tree trunk and sat heavily on it with the Fury following him like a shadow. Toothless was not about to do anything drastic, at least not for the next ten heartbeats.

"I'm sorry I did not come. I fought and got hurt, then I overslept and worked on this," he pointed to the harness," I also need your help with my back again, please. So... no biting?" he looked directly into the dragon's eyes, trying to make his voice sound strong and confident.

The dark Fury smirked toothily, it was much better to hear this than scared apologies. Toothless started to feel Hope that Hiccup might one day grow to be his equal.

SHOW BACK the dragon wrote in the earth

The youth pulled off his tunic and let his scaled companion tend to the wound. The dragon snorted reproachfully, seeing the stitches and the red dots where the needle had penetrated the skin. He did not remove them. Hiccup seemed to take comfort from the human ways of treating wounds. Understandable, since he had never seen how dragons do that.

The healing process of the gash was progressing without any complications he could see or smell. He licked the wound again carefully, enjoying the salty taste the human had.

When dragons lapped each other, it was a sign of affection and care. He felt both of those things towards Scalgertar, and a sense of pride was filling him. The boy had asked Toothless to help _him_, of all creatures. It simplified things. This time, Toothless would not need to knock Hiccup unconscious to see his wounded back.

Nothing escaped his perceptive eye, not one scratch, skin abrasion or bruise on the small body. He continued his task, remembering to ask his human a few questions.

Hiccup moaned painfully as he licked a big bruise on the left side of his waist. It had yellow centre with a reddish-purple circle around it. He grunted quietly, urging the boy to be still. Toothless nudged Hiccup's left hand to lift it. The sitting youth hissed again. The hand was would be next to be checked, Toothless mentally noted, and pressed his soft tongue to the waist contusion.

It was a typical injury caused by a blunt object; the dragon could even identify the shape of what had done it, and surely, a dragon did not cause it.

Human's organs were very similar to the dragon's, almost same placement and look with very subtle differences. So, Toothless could tell the youth's kidneys were undamaged, along with the ribs. There were some damaged muscles and some small bleeding under his skin from destroyed capillaries, however, it was completely natural. After all, every bruise got its colour from the clotted blood beneath the skin.

Hiccup did not protest when his armoured nurse licked his damaged elbow tenderly with the black eyelids closed, but looked at the procedure with slightly opened mouth.

Toothless finished and looked at the boy with dangerously slitted pupils. A deep growl with bared teeth helped the boy remember that his knee hurt as well. With hesitancy, he drew up his trousers leg, and the procedure repeated.

After the dragon finished, his eyes rested on Hiccup's, dilated and filled with worry, making the boy ashamed of his state as if a caring parent was looking over him. The boy could not help such a thought, as ridiculous as it was.

Toothless nudged his face and then licked it, causing the boy to smile.

"Sorry for making you worried...buddy," he petted the big nose affectionately with his undamaged hand. A snort told him that he was not forgiven, only temporary let out of the loop until he would feel better.

NO MOVE, The dragon wrote and trotted to the one of the medium sized trees . He cut its bark. Hiccup observed carefully, memorising the tree and how his caretaker was drawing out the resin. Soon, the youth's back was covered in a sticky and pleasantly smelling substance. As instructed, he did not cover his back, and moved himself to the lighted fire stone.

Toothless offered his folded wing lean against as he limped heavily to seat near the warmness. Before he could utter a word of thanks, the fast Fury sprinted to the fish-filled basket and with few moves of its forepaw emptied the content into the ground and started devouring, looking often into the boy's direction, checking if the youth did not have any stupid ideas like moving.

The sun almost disappeared behind the edge, and that meant that Scalgertar might want to return to his shelter.

Toothless swallowed another fish, averting his head rapidly back, once again, to check on the boy.

The bruised human was going to spend the night here, under his protection, and that was final. It would also give them a chance to converse about some essential matters. The main topic would be who had done this to Hiccup and how fast Toothless would like that person to die.

His attention now caught the harness, lying on the ground. His clanmate had most probably gotten another, ingenious idea to make him fly better. The pup had such a brilliant mind, which made him a truly valuable ally. If only the youth would have more confidence in himself and a stronger body.

Toothless swallowed the last fish and smacked his lips with contentment.

_He_ was going to change Hiccup's personality and body to help him reach his full potential. He would do it stealthily and subtly so that the boy would not even notice what had happened.

But first, he had to help him with his current injuries to prolong the youth's fragile life before his disgustingly primitive folks killed him.

He sucked in a deeper breath. It was time to add some cuteness into his act.

* * *

The darkness came suddenly. So much for testing out the harness and measuring the rope to operate the mechanism. Hiccup could not complain, though, on his situation. Toothless seemed to be happy with the situation, and the boy shared the notion.

Hiccup laughed, seeing the playful predator rolling on the grassless ground by the pond, scratching his back and sides with a satisfied purring. The exposed dragon belly, as the boy saw, was covered in small scales that gradually got bigger until they were the size of human fist on the chest.

The dragon asked him to follow him into the water carefully and stay there, without moving.

The curious teen followed and stepped into the lake, feeling the soft sand beneath his feet. He shivered, the coldness surrounding his bare body.

"Do I really need to do that?" He asked, trembling.

Toothless grunted in negligent agreement, drifting on his back in the deeper waters and looking at the cloudless sky, the light orange mixing with the incoming blackness.

The treatment Hiccup received was the most original he ever came in contact with.

After a while of soaking in the water, Toothless swam to him and tapped his arm in a few places with the soft part of his paw. It hurt at first, but then the hand went numb and flat. The boy did not panic at the lost control of his limb, entrusting his big companion with it. The same thing happened to his leg as he was nuzzled to move back to the shallower part. He caught the dragon's neck, no longer able to support his own weight. The dragon bent his leg for Hiccup to sit on. He gently carried the boy between the lake and the glowing stone. While Hiccup tried to dress, the dragon used this time to dry himself with his blue flame.

Tonight would be one he would never forget. The dragon surrounded his body, coiling around it tightly, almost depraving the boy from breath.

"I think I should go home," Hiccup said, feeling scared of the situation he was in. It was irrational since he trusted Toothless fully; he was simply frightened of the unknown. He was unaware that the sable dragon changed his relaxed expression, gazing at Hiccup's neck with his right paw tensed to strike and knock out Hiccup, if necessary.

Hiccup looked back at the Fury, now the scaled muzzle a display of pure innocence. The only thing missing would be for him to blink twice, increasing the cuteness factor.

Toothless blinked twice and smiled widely without his teeth.

The boy quickly calculated how much time he needed. Tomorrow he only had to visit Jawlock and train with him. He did not know exactly when would do that, and no deadline was placed for him to show up. That helped him solidify the decision to stay.

He did not really had a choice, now, with a limp hand and leg.

Toothless's body started vibrating without any sound, making him feel drowsy, his body relaxed. He was barely aware where he was or what he was doing.

A glowing orb appeared, stopping in front of his eyes, the trapped lightning dancing for him again.

Was he still awake or dreaming, now?

He could not move, it was only his slightly opened eyes and the "star". He should make a wish.

Wish... what he wanted now? He already wished for Toothless to fly again. He should think of something for himself, now.

The azure glow filled his sight; it was pale but still blinding him.

_Choose Hiccup! You have one wish only! Choose before your star will disappear! Hurry_!

He wanted...

The globe flared in blue light and after the overwhelming light, he saw blackness.

He woke up, seeing the rafters above him. His room was big again. Terrifyingly big. The bed was scarily giant. It was not a surprise. He was six years old, and he could already write his name nicely! He used to write with his right hand, but he could not move it now. His had body changed along with his life. The burns still hurt whenever he moved. It was best to just lie still.

He was offered a drink, clear water in a small, grey clay mug, held by a big hand. This hand was terrifying as well. How still it was, and how his father was so silent.

He drank it clumsily, his teeth biting the mug's rim. A cold liquid dripped from his chin. Immediately a soft fabric of a colour he no longer remembered wiped his face delicately.

"I love you, dad," He said suddenly in hoarse, thin voice. The word 'love' escaped his mouth, written in white runes and fell slowly onto the bed's sheet, falling like a leave from an arid tree.

His father never answered. He only gave him his best smile, the one that was sad and forced, but still, the best he could manage.

Then Hiccup was sitting alone in his bed, looking at his closed world.

He looked beneath the stool his father sat at. The boy's face brightened. Dad had left a gift for him after all! He dropped from the bed and took up a small word in his hands, which said 'denial'. He picked up the word 'love' from his bed and opened his door only to see the main doors slamming, catching a glimpse of his father's tired face.

Oh, another gift!

He bent and picked up 'hate' word from the floor, putting it carefully on top of the others he had in his other hand.

He took a few steps down and took up another one. 'Guilt' it said. He stepped outside, as his foot landed on the ground outside the door, he realized he was older now. Berk was covered in snow. A few years had passed and his burns did not hurt so much anymore. He was caught between child and youth.

A path, black as night led down from his house, leading to his destination.

The whiteness was overwhelming, as if the world became pure for a moment. He could not admire the view, though, he had to hurry!

Hurry to kill a dragon!

The word appeared in front of him and crushed on the path with a loud thud. He looked with interest what that was. He just found 'lies'! How heavy it was!

He ran to his destination quickly and knocked on the large door. It opened on its own, with a loud screech.

Inside, his small anvil waited for him with his, even smaller, hammer.

"Faster, lad! Yer lettin' th' warm air out!" The grumpy voice said as he walked in. The door slammed behind him.

"What ar' ya waitin' for?" Gobber asked abruptly with a raised voice," This is what life ya've chosen. Go an' work on it!" he yelled, pointing at the anvil that zoomed to him, and the small hammer pressed into his palm after flying across the room.

He placed all the words into beside the anvil and took one of them. He struck it once and it changed into a chain link, white and glistening. It was pretty, because it was _his_. His own identity.

Another word was struck with the hammer, and it changed into another chain link. The first one dropped to the ground and attached itself to the metal ring on his leg. He had worn this manacle when everything had changed for him.

Why was he not like as the others of his people?

On anvil words 'useless' and 'weak' appeared.

Snotlout was better than he. _Everybody_ was better.

He wiped sweat from his forehead. When he removed the hand, there were new words attached to it: 'Jealousy' and 'need for admiration'. He imagined Astrid and the word 'love' appeared again, but he could tell it was different than the first one.

He grew older, and words kept on appearing. The rain of chain links poured from the anvil.

He never looked down at the chain. He only collected the words.

His hand stopped his work with the loud shriek of a dragon outside.

"Blasted beasties can't be quiet fo' a night!" Gobber cursed, changing his pincers into an axe.

"There," he said to him, pointing at the place where Hiccup stood," Ya know wha' I mean," and ran out from, the forge with a battlecry.

Through the opened door, he saw the small figure of his elusive prize falling from the sky.

He moved stepped out from the forge and, when he blinked, he already stood above the trapped Fury.

"I did it!" he shouted, and the word 'haughtiness' dropped on the dragon's head, waking the creature up.

"I'm going to kill you dragon!" the boy shouted, and he tried to lift a dagger. Then he realised that he could not move. The chain he so carefully forged was tangling his body, binding every part of it in a tight embrace.

"I'm a Viking!" He yelled, and the chain fastened stronger. The dragon observed him calmly, his eyes filled with understanding pity.

"I'm a Viking! I'm a dragon killer! I will kill you because…. I hate you!" The small human wheezed, losing air in his lungs as his metal entrapment squeezed him stronger," I must hate you...to be loved again," he said quietly and, feeling faint from the lack of air, he fell forward limply.

His body penetrated the ground and then he found himself in the dark water, surrounded by darkness. It was good kind of nothingness. The one destroying memories and the life they carried.

But it was not his place, he did not need it, as he lost part of his life already.

He submerged further, seeing a ray of pearly light penetrating the water. It stopped over the dark shape of the entrapped dragon, now lying on his back on the weed-filled bottom.

Floating down, he stopped his descent in front of the Fury. A giant eye opened, gazing at him with the same pity and pain he did not notice before.

"Why do you want to forget?" Hiccup asked the dragon, floating in the water above the Fury.

The beast did not answer; only a chain clanged on his handsome body.

Chain?

Oh, it had a chain tying him, just like he did!

He looked at the silverfish creation on the Fury. Hiccup could recognise from what word each chain link had been made.

This one was hate. And another one next to it as well. And another. And another. And another...

The chain was the same length and with similar words. Only the first few parts of it, coming out from where the dragon had his heart, were different. The first one was 'fear' and the second 'abandonment' with 'guilt' hanging from it. And there was the biggest link of his metal string, lying heavily on the black chest: 'emptiness'.

He felt drawn to the creature, a desire to make a contact with the similar being. He slowly floated, and the dragon's eyes, for the first time, showed a sign of life, and smouldering with anticipation, leaning his snout forward to close the distance faster.

_Hurry Hiccup! Hurry to save the dragon!_

He closed his eyes as his face almost touched the Fury's nose and a moment later, a long-familiar feeling of warmth, radiating through his body.

Toothless...

The sound of something scribbling in the ground caused him to open his eyes again. He was in a new place, in the one he did not recognise. He was sitting cross-legged on a grey sand. He had heard the waves, attacking the shore in a gentle pulse.

He touched the sand, fascinated by its colour. It felt rougher and heavier than the sand he knew. It poured through his fingers slowly, until only a solid object was left in his palm. He opened the fist, and there was a small fang. A dragon fang.

He looked back at the sand, noticing now that it was a graveyard. Countless fangs and claws stuck out from the dirt. A few skulls partially showed, their empty eyes sockets looking at him.

It was a peaceful place, a grey beach under a colossus grey mountain. There was an opening at the top, and it glowed red and orange as if something hot was inside it. He looked down, directing his stare at the scribbling noise.

Toothless was dancing! A sapling trunk was grasped in his mouth as he swirled and twirled happily with smooth elegance, creating shapeless figures in the soil.

JOIN ME

A sign appeared in front of the boy, curved in the sand.

_I can't_, he thought, feeling the chain still miring him.

The words disappeared, inundated with the sand, and new ones came into existence.

LOOSEN YOUR CHAIN HICCUP

_I can't break it, it is too strong! I'm not as powerful as you_, he thought to the dragon, knowing the truth of this words.

The sand moved again, covering the runes.

The dragon still spun as if not noticing him.

LOOK WITHOUT DIMINISHING YOURSELF

The new message told him. He looked at Toothless carefully. The joyous Fury was free!

The small human thought that … until he noticed the argent cord, shimmering with the black dragon's movements.

The dragon still had the chain attached to him, only it was not tangling his body. Hiccup followed the chain with his eyes. How long it was! So much longer than his was... and yet, he was still trapped in his own chain.

Enraged, he started squirming, fighting futilely with the bindings he made for himself. It was pointless, he could not be as free as his friend.

FREE YOURSELF

"I can't!" he shouted angrily," I can't break it!"

Toothless stopped his dance, as if he had heard the boy just now, and he turned his head to Hiccup. Seeing him, he dropped the tree he held and walked to the youth and then sat in front of him on his hinder legs, looking amused with his attempts. With a draconic smirk, new words were shaped into the sand.

YOU DO NOT BREAK IT BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE

Hiccup looked dumbfounded at what was written in front of him. Then, what he was supposed to do if he could not destroy the chain?

Toothless puffed his chest with pride, and his chain clanged, attached to his heart.

ACCEPT WHAT YOUR CHAIN IS

IT IS WHO YOU ARE HICCUP

WHO YOU WERE WHO YOU ARE AND WHO YOU WILL BE

The Fury smiled toothily in support as the words ceased to exist and transformed into an amorphous form.

SOME LINKS WILL FALL OFF AND SOME WILL NEVER DISSAPEAR

The toxic green eyes looked down at the boy's ankle. The metal manacle with the 'mother' word on it. The first and the most important one, and the one holding everything together.

Toothless grabbed the end of Hiccup's chain and, moving his head in a circle around his body, started unwinding it.

After a few more turns, it dropped, still on the ground and...nothing changed.

"Nothing changed," Hiccup said, disappointed.

Toothless grumbled in his laughter.

OF COURSE NOTHING WOULD CHANGE DIMWIT

Did the sand or Toothless just call him a dimwit?

CHANGE NEVER COMES FAST BUT NOW YOU CAN MOVE

Hiccup stood up, still feeling the chain's weight on his leg.

MOVE THEN AND ONE DAY YOU WILL BE SO STRONG YOU WON'T FEEL THE CHAIN ANYMORE

As these words disappeared into the ground, Toothless trotted to his previous spot, grabbed the tree again in his mouth and started twisting again, yowling and rumbling mirthfully.

The boy tried to follow the dragon's movements and felt himself spinning in place, looking at the blue sky. He whirled faster and faster, laughing, until the world blurred and he could not tell where he was anymore.

He opened his eyes, seeing the dark membrane of the wing above him. His head still spun as the dream he just had was real. He even felt the laughter dying in his ears. It all seemed too real and vivid in his head.

He lifted his head, feeling strangely light, from the dragon's side. Toothless grumbled in annoyance but did not change his slumbering position. The dragon's entire body was circled around him in a an embrace, the noble head in front of Hiccup's small boots, eye lids closed and breathing slowly.

Hiccup escaped from under the partially opened wing and stretched himself. Surprised, he moved his left hand as a test, and then a leg. He was healed!

An astonished chuckle escaped his mouth, and he grabbed his previously painful elbow and he hissed.

_All right, that one still hurts when touched_, he thought and touched his knee, _This one as well_. However, this did not stop him from rejoicing. He looked over the dragon, looking at his sleeping, magnificent body.

Hiccup smiled in content, cracking his knuckles . He thought about how to show the dragon how grateful he was.

* * *

An another, almost overwhelming trill of pleasure made his knees weak. Hiccup continued his pleasurable assault, encouraged by the dragon's uncontrolled purring.

_I never knew that humans could do this_! Toothless barely managed to put this thought together when another wave of pure bliss flared through his powerful body.

"Faster!" He roared, and the boy, guided with instinct, sped up. The dragon's breathing quickened, trying not to move not to hurt the youth accidently. When the Fury thought it could not get even better, Hiccup touched him for the last time and his eyesight flared with whiteness, his body dropping to the ground.

He smiled in pure delight.

He would have never guessed being scratched under the chin could feel so good.

* * *

Hiccup left, leaving the harness in its basket under a tree, having Toothless's smile as a goodbye. As he disappeared, the dragon's grimace dropped and his eyes changed into slits.

Who would have guessed that humans are capable of self-healing? More importantly, Scalgertar had told him everything when he was lying there in the trance, dreaming with with his eyes open.

The pup took place in some sort of training, designed to teach them how to kill a dragon? Nothing surprising in that, judging how the humans lived. He had not heard a thing which would surprise him however, the boy started asking him about his past, then things got... interesting.

Hiccup told him that that grey beach with a misted ocean was a weird place to dance and Toothless knew of only one place those words could have described.

The interesting part was, he had never told Hiccup about it.

* * *

Silly Story time.

(If you do not know what noir style of film was, you might not like the story)

I apologise because today's theme was supposed to be about Hiccup SLASHED with a chair. Sadly, the Chair Lovers Organisation threatened me with soft cushions, so I had to change the story. I apologise to all the Hiccup/chair readers.

*Noir piano music*

It was a day just like every other. If that day was the one where you were looking at the wall, smoking one cigarette after another than yes, welcome to my world.

I was working as a dragon to hire for quite a time now. I forgot already how long, since I had to sell my detective diploma to pay my cave rent.

I also used to have a Terrible Terror secretary. Used to...heh. Being a Nightmare myself , we had quite a flaming romance between us, but, sadly she left. They say that size in love does not matter...well, it did.

I puffed out another smoke ring from my muzzle, bored to my claws , when I heard a pretty, melodious voice of a dragoness.

As melodious as grunts and snarls can get.

"Can I come in?" I heard from the cave opening.

"Please... my cave's always open," I said, noticing that caves, indeed, were always open. Quite surprising for a this type of geological formation, huh?

"What can I do for you, sweet cheeks?" I asked, seeing the most beautiful Nadder ever.

My mom used to be very protective about me so I could not say that I knew a lot of Nadders, but that dragoness was still something.

"A-are you the Big Wing Boy?" she asked me shyly. I huffed out another smoke ring.

"Yes, that's me, the Big Wing Boy," I replied. There were a few things about me that were big. It was a shame there were only two of them, and both happened to be my wings.

"I am looking for somebody, and I've heard there is nothing you can't find!" She said pleadingly.

I knew since the beginning that I could not refuse such a beauty," I'm going to reward you generously," she said sensually, winking her beautiful, blue eyelid. I immediately thought of the many bones I would receive as a payment.

What else would such outstandingly beautiful, flirtingly smiling dragoness mean?

My mom had never explained to me those things well.

Her instructions were for me to find her pet human.

Not a pet human again, I thought with a sigh.

Apparently that human's name was Astrid, and she had gone missing together with a boy named Hiccup.

"It's human mating season," I said dryly," They are probably takin' their sweet time together."

"Please, I only want to know if she's okay...,"she said unsurely, her head dropping in grief. I couldn't make such lady-dragon sad.

It was time to act.

"I will do my best, ...Miss...?" I asked warmly.

Her reaction was not the one expected. She started trembling , and her eyes widened in terror.

"I cannot tell you, kind Sir. My name is banned, and there is one human hunter who will hunt me down and stick my hide on display for daring to have such a common name!" She hissed to me.

"I understand, but I need to call you something," I said , and I noted a small plant growing just outside the cave

It had a thin stalk from which azure chalice shaped petals dangled, reminding me of those funny human ding-dong things hang at top of some church towers.

"Very well, Miss Blue-," I started but was stopped by her tail pressing to my mouth.

Having a darted tail pressed to your mouth was never a good thing.

"Don't say it! She will hear it and destroy both of us!" She roared in perfect fright.

"But it's a common name, what is wrong with having name like that? Or Grass? Or Rock?" I asked, after spitting her tail out.

I was never into tail fetishes, like some of my friends were.

"I am not the one to judge logic here! Please just find Astrid!" She said , and escaped my cave hurriedly.

"What would happen if I would say Bl-" I never finished. An arrow made of the plant name I was about to utter crashed into my head, killing me.

The last thing I saw were the blue bells hanging from between my eyes.

* * *

AN: Another weird dream! Quite a lot of those dreams I have in this story. No, I do nto smoke or take anything before writing them.

I drink. Tea. No alcohol included.

Tell me what you think, whenever your opinion about this story/chapter is good, bad, or you just like bananas...like me!

Until next time.


	22. Personality Adaptation

AN: Have fun.

* * *

He was mistaken in thinking that his leg and arm no longer needed some rest and tender, snuggling attention. He was receiving it now, in plentiful quantities.

"Toothless I am fine!" Hiccup yelled, trying to escape the tail circling his waist. He would not be released, but it was always good to yell. The unconvinced dragon looked tediously at the falsely assuring unconvincingly reassuring boy who was trying to push away his muzzle. The Fury noticed the triumphant smirk too late. A small hand slid beneath his head and scratched one of the pressure points.

"Ha! Take that!" Hiccup rejoiced, slapping away the now limp tail from his waist loftily. One of his eyebrows raised and an over-confident grin on his face, he affirmed "Nothing can withstand these muscles!". At the same time he flexed his flat arm and pointed his finger at the biceps**,** showing its even surface to the reclining dragon.

Toothless had one eyelid half-open and was thinking of one hundred ways to inflict pay back for this sneak attack. He had reached the twenty first item and was still counting.

"Now! Since I have proved how awesomely mighty I am, I will leave to prepare the harness," the boy said haughtily, and he could not help grinning. After so many times of being slapped and hit by wing or tail, he could enjoy his little victory. He limped happily to the basket, hidden beneath one of the trees, and took out the saddle with a thin rope hanging from it.

"Toothless, can you come here?" he said, turning back to the open field and froze. The black body was gone**, **and that meant only one thing. Hiccup's hand shot up and backwards immediately and brushed against the first solid surface his fingers met.

From right behind him, the dragon dropped to the ground from a tree he dangled on by his tail, purring.

"Thank you! You are so obedient today!" the boy said, a wide grin plastered to his face. Humming quietly, he strapped on the tailfin. Then he stepped in front of the dragon's muzzle and lifted it. Toothless opened his eyes slightly, trying to send Hiccup the most hateful glare he could muster.

"I really want you to fly, bud, but I can't be treated like one bruise would kill me," the scrawny youth said, his face serious. The Fury snorted sarcastically, regaining the control of his body, although not moving.

"I appreciate your concern,though," Hiccup assured, gently stroking the dark nose. A loud huff informed him that somebody had a different opinion about the worried business.

"Let me help you...please**?**" the youth said earnestly, his head ascending as the dragon raised himself to sit on his haunches.

His face confident and determined, Hiccup pleaded in his mind for Toothless to agree. If his crippled partner was hesitating, Hiccup was the reason. It was as if the boy was the one who wanted to get into the air even more than the one who should be the most interested in it. All this, due to the protective care the dragon shed over him.

The sleek Fury breathed out tiredly**,** and his claw scrambled in the dirt.

WE FLY UNTIL SUN UP

The evening moved on with the accompaniment of warm quietness. Hiccup worked calmly on the tail, grappling with the rope, a few pieces of it lying around his kneeling frame, cut by a dagger.

Toothless looked at the work with interest, not questioning a thing. The concentrating boy, finally noticing the inquisitive stare, started talking about his day to give the dragon's waiting time more entertaining colours.

He told about his short training with Jawlock and how amazingly pleasant it was becoming. The old archer now talked to him politely, treating him more as a partner than as a trainee. During most of the youth's stay**,** they talked to each other about bows and everything bow-related, exchanging knowledge and opinions. To make his stay even more enjoyable, Jawlock's wife proved to be a very warm person, demanding that Hiccup eat everything she had prepared and lamenting on how thin he was.

That was one fact the bony boy also lamented about.

He now felt more like being at a small family reunion than a training lesson. A few, small things were rectified on his shooting position and**,** in the end, Jawlock conversed at length about laminates and how to best take care of his weapon. Jawlock explained in great detail what to use, when and how. His knowledge impressed the boy and increased his respect of the old man. Hiccup noted down his instructor's directions in his notebook, listening attentively.

His wife presented him with a bow cover, made of deer leather waterproofed with a special grease treatment. She told him, "Take it, tha' antique has too much of 'em anyway".

Jawlock only looked warmly at his beloved, appreciating her thoughtfulness.

"It was nice seeing two older people in love with each other, even though there are not that many elderly people in Berk," Hiccup said to himself, his glance now running to the bow, leaning against the oak nearby, the cover by its side.

Toothless listened, memorising every word the boy uttered, letting these words resonate freely with their compelling sound.

"That should be it!" Hiccup announced jubilantly after a long time of working on a rope, "Anything too tight?" he asked, checking the large shoulder rings on the dragon's front legs. A short grunt, ending with a high, short chirp served as a _no_, letting him continue.

After a final check, he jumped onto the Fury's back and put his feet into the pedals, only to jump back off . He got out a small clay jar of grease to oil them, along with the metal hole-slots. He climbed on againand had to go down again almost immediately**, ** this time to tighten the cord running on the right side of the scaled side.

He continued adjusting the harness diligently and by the time his mind was back to reality, it was getting dark already. He positioned himself back in the saddle quickly**, **and his legs clamped in the pedals.

"I know I won't fly. I only want to test it," he said hastily to the dragon and moved the pedals. The artificial tail-fin sprung alive, changing its angle depending on how much Hiccup pressed the treadle.

"It's working**, **Toothless!" he crowed, observing the tail-fin movements. Here was a copy of the dragon's body, functioning just like the original!

"Let's fly!" he said in pure excitement, jumping down again and running in front of the jet-black Fury, "Now you can be in the sky again! Come on, let's fly! We'll be fine!" he said ecstatically, trying to convince Toothless, whose glare was becoming less and less pleasant.

Hiccup seemed not to notice it, trapped in his own delight, continuing his harangue.

A powerful tail thrashed the ground loudly, startling the boy. Without even returning the stare, the angered dragon strode past by the surprised youth, walking to the fire-stone.

"Toothless!" Hiccup gasped, stunned that he had been rejected altogether,with his offer. His features hardened as he walked quickly after the dragon with heavy steps.

"Toothless, stop!" he yelled, feeling betrayed by the dragon's apparent disinterest. He was now shouting at the Night Fury. Yes, he was angry because Toothless was not letting him help.

The scaled beast did not honour him even with a remote glance, merely choosing to lick his forepaw. This only peeved the youth further.

"Why do you act like it does not matter? Do you think it is- ah!" he huffed suddenly, grabbing his still-aching knee, Toothless's head rose at that sound "...It is easy? I want you to fly! Maybe _you_ are happy and don't want to-," he stopped, seeing the curious, penetrating eyes.

He'd better stop before he said words he would regret until the end of his life. He looked at the tail and his invention on it, together with the cords running along the dragon's body to the saddle. How pathetic it all looked compared to the original**!**

Toothless looked at the tailfin as well and then hid it from the youth's view, bending his tail behind his body.

SIT

The dragon wrote, before the boy's feelings crystallized into anything solid. Hiccup sat down on one of the rocks, not as close to his partner as usual.

SIT LOWER

The fire-breather scribbled and then resumed grooming his paw. Hiccup slid off the rock slowly in order to sit on the ground, remembering that being higher than your peer was a sign of disrespect for dragons.

CLOSER

The Fury instructed. The youth's small frame moved through the dimmed cove with quiet steps and sat exactly in front of Toothless, cross-legged.

Enormous green eyes moved from Toothless' scaled leg to Hiccup's face.

TELL ME

"What?" the boy queried, his tone harsh. He still wanted to make Toothless airborne again. Anything else seemed like a waste of time. They could be making loop de loops now**, **and the dragon would be happy again.

WHY YOU ANGRY AND SAD

"Oh man, everybody seems to an expert about my feelings, these days!" Hiccup retorted sarcastically. He shifted his weight to pull a small rock from beneath himself and tossed it aside.

Toothless kept their position, calmly observing.

"I have nothing to say about it," the boy said dryly.

The ebony head tilted with curiosity.

NOT UNDERSTAND

"Welcome to _my_ world," the boy commented ironically.

One of the dragon's ear-plates twitched.

YOU WANT FIGHT?

"Wha-? No!" Hiccup blurted out in clear fright, waving his hands in front of himself.

YOUR BODY READY TO ATTACK HARD AND TENSE

"No Toothless. I don't want to fight!" the teen said, arms outstretched defensively.

YOUR EYES TELL ME YOU WANT

"No-no-no, my eyes are...can we drop that topic, please?" Hiccup asked, peeved.

DROP WHAT?

Toothless wrote with head tilted curiously. He looked around for the object that was supposed to drop. The human was making less and less sense**!**

"I just...want to stop talking, all right?" the bony teen said with a groan.

The dragon chirped, impressed, he rarely heard human groans. But why did Hiccup insist he did not want to fight? A quick duel would make him relaxed again.

Toothless waited a fair amount of time while his partner sat with hands crossed on his chest.

BETTER NOW?

The dragon asked**, **hearing the youth's heart beating normally and no more angered breaths.

"I guess...," the boy said**, **and took a small rock from the ground, studying its shape with uninterested look on his face.

CAN ME ASK?

The white claw scratched in the earth.

"Sure," the teen muttered, seeming more interested in the stone.

TELL ME ABOUT YOU DEAD MOTHER

Hiccup eyes widened,and something ugly and cold crawled on his scarred back.

"How do you know _that_?" he asked in a voice he did not recognise, looking at the dragon as if seeing him for the very first time.

The Fury smiled, revealing his fangs entirely, gazing into the murderously calm human eyes. The scaled beast felt his blood boil with the excitement of the battle the youth's was now awakening in him.

"I've _never_ told you about it and I would remember if I had done that," Hiccup said in a low voice, his glare freezing.

Claws scraped the dirt deeply, all bone blades unsheathed. Toothless' pupils were nothing more than a pair of narrow, black stripes.

The creature barely constrained himself from tearing the human apart, almost feeling the pleasure it would give him, the almost forgotten smell of blood and the battle heat! It had been far too long since he fought with his life on the line!

These beautiful, beautiful small eyes were calling to him. The irresistible smell that small body emitted. It belonged to him!

"No!" a piercing cry shot through his mind, warning him to reconsider.

Suddenly there was a small figure trapped just beneath and in front of him, curled up and terrified. The Fury had his paw raised, ready to strike and slice through everything it met. Regaining his vision again, Toothless heard at first a quiet thumping and,after a moment**, **the loud and fast, almost skull-exploding sounds of a human heart.

The smell of the boy was no longer alluring, but repulsive, filled with fear and sweat.

He had almost... _killed_ this human**!** He could not control himself, even for just for a moment!

His paw dropped slowly. Hiccup trembled as he lay on the ground, covering his face with his tiny, scarred hands.

Toothless wanted to escape, to hide from the shame and guilt he felt. His instinct was advising him to do that, but he would not succumb again.

He brought down his head to nuzzle the boy gently. His body shivered as well, feeling the fear, not only fear born from the thought of what would happen if there were nobody else left to help him fly again, but fear of losing this special companion. He also felt Hiccup's fear. Just as, a moment ago, he had reacted not to his anger but to the boy's.

There was nothing about this he could have explained, nothing from the teachings he could relate to.

This was alien and**, **in a sense,terrifying. It was a connection of some sort and not only that. Hiccup had to have known what happened during last night's healing. He had a more deductive mind than the dragon's**, **and he might have figured it out.

He breathed out a stream of warm air to let Scalgertar know he was above.

A glistening green eye, full of fear, appeared from between the skinny arms.

Toothless knew Hiccup would be terrified**, **would probably make that roar-cry of fear and try to escape.

The boy did none of those things.

The pup lowered his hands and then slowly sat up, not meeting the Fury's eyes**, ** as if afraid of angering him again.

Hiccup was not the one who had caused this,and yet Toothless understood that part of the boy which dictated him to act in this way and,instead of running, to stay still.

And, most importantly, to ponder why he had reacted to the boy's feelings in such a violent way.

A claw plunged slightly into the earth, trying not to startle the boy.

YOU WANT ME TO HATE YOU

Hiccup's eyes rose up to the dragon's muzzle, just to quickly slide down. It was enough for Toothless to catch the shining truth in them. It was**, **indeed**, **what the human wanted. Of all the emotions, of all the possibilities after almost being slashed by his dragon ally, he yearned to be hated?

There was no betrayal in Hiccup's eyes, no anger. Only acceptance. There was something wrong with Hiccup's mind as if,inside it, there was darkness, adhering to anyone who dared touch it.

_Don't run away, dragon, don't run away from the responsibility like you did with your sister! _Toothless told himself, incoherently, barely able to keep himself in place. _I am trembling_, he noticed in shock, feeling the shivers running through his body. None of his mind-control worked. He could not calm himself.

_I almost killed him!_

That thought did not leave him**, **and he knew it would not make him sleep for the next few nights. He wanted to show the boy that he was regretting this inexplicable loss of self-control.

"I forgot to take off your saddle," Hiccup's weak voice cut into thoughts, trying to sound natural.

Toothless almost lunged himself forward to sink his head into the small arms and purr from happiness. He realised that any time spent without this strange little friend of his was time without a purpose.

It was not the need to fly that had made him jump back into the stone prison after Hiccup got him outside. He lifted each leg jauntily as Hiccup released him from the leather-circles.

Even before the flying gear was lowered to the ground, the big head pressed itself to the small chest.

Toothless rumbled softly, trying to make his frame as small as possible. Submitting himself to the boy's reactions.

"B-Bud?" Hiccup asked, stunned by the situation. The dragon rumbled louder, slamming his head lightly into his chest as if asking for - no- _demanding_ an action.

Hesitantly, the boy's hands closed around the scaled head. Both of them wanted to continue their bond**, **and there was nothing else they could have done to show each other that they did not want to continue without each other.

Just a bit of sacrifice for both of them: choosing to ignore what had happened. Only a small fragment of the time between them to be erased, in exchange for continuing the greater bond that was between them. It was a subtle realisation for both of them of this connection that nothing would break, even they themselves.

Hiccup stowed the flying equipment and came back to his companion. Without any word he sat, leaning on the Fury's warm side, looking at the old claw-scar lines on the leathery, black skin, now more visible in the orange, stable glow, softly lighting the space.

Toothless nuzzled the boy's hair, taking a breath of this smell that always soothed him. He looked beneath himself, his claw working lazily in the sand.

I CAN FEEL YOU

"And I can feel you, you winged lizard," Hiccup said humorously, lazing away.

The lying dragon destroyed the letters with a swipe of his paw and started again.

I CAN FEEL YOUR MIND

The youth moved unsettlingly, seeing the runes, he looked up to meet Toothless's eyes. They were dilated and calm, and expressed nothing but honesty.

"I don't understand what you mean," the youth expressed weakly, bracing harder against the dragon's hide.

YOU UNDERSTAND

Hiccup remained silent, looking at the letters. The dragon did not disturb the pondering boy, letting him think calmly about it. Toothless understood that, and what the human wanted.

It was frightening for them both.

YOU GOT MAD BEFORE AND I REACTED TO IT

His forepaw swooped over the earth again and, after a short hestitation, he wrote what he had to.

YOU WANT TO BE HURT HICCUP

Swipe again, and his claw shaped the earth in almost unreadable movements, ignoring Hiccup's held breath and tensed body.

YOU WANTED ME TO HURT YOU

"N-no, that's not true," Hiccup said, looking at the appearing words.

The boy almost believed him, he almost grasped that idea! Toothless could feel, in spite of the words, the youth's disbelief transforming into a delicate understanding.

WHY? The dragon probed, expecting the boy to provide him with answers and then he would believe him.

Through mind connection. Toothless felt it! So Hiccup must also...

"No**, **that's not it, " Hiccup said genuinely, slowly shaking his head a couple of times, "I am more grateful than you can imagine for you to try and understand me, almost... almost like a friend would," he said and**, **as a small smile rose on his face, a powerful sense of gratitude and warmness filled the dragon.

Even so, Toothless was shocked. Hiccup did not understand the connection! It was _not_ like 'friend',whatever that meant for humans! The mind connection, sharing of emotions, triggering, in the dragon's own body, reactions that he could not control yet .

Scalgertar _had_ to understand!

The boy looked at him, with this smile that melted his anxiousness. Toothless could not resist nor refuse those eyes.

Hiccup was not ready for this. He would not understand. Because it was only him, Toothless, who felt that connection. His hopes vanished completely.

YES LIKE FRIEND

He wrote, in spite of himself, not sensing anything substantial behind these words. He smiled, his fangs hidden in their gum-wall. He kept the grimace up until Hiccup looked away.

"I wanted, still want, you to fly. I got caught up in it so much, that I forgot about the danger and wanted to force my ideas onto you," Hiccup said and chuckled, "This is one of the things I sometimes forget to do: respect other people's decisions. Or dragons''" he added, breathing out deeply, "It was natural you got mad at me. It showed me how selfish I was," he snuggled closer, visibly enjoying the contact.

"I knew that you would not strike me, Toothless," he said quietly, "I knew that you did it only to scare me. Sorry for the screaming" his said, his voice confident.

"What's wrong, bud?" he asked then, suddenly, raising his head, "You're shivering! Is there something wrong?"

The dragon's gummy smile appeared again, with the one and only possible word of explanation.

COLD

"Oh man, I should've taken that bear fur," Hiccup said apologetically, rising from his reclining position. The black tail stopped him from standing up**, **and an azure flame heated up the hearth stone.

"If I could breathe fire, I would do the same," the boy commented sardonically.

Toothless quickly looked away, not letting anyone see his panicked eyes.

Scalgertar did not realise it! But it was there! When the dragon had mentioned he boy's mother**, **a dark and violent part of the human wanted to be hurt. ...no that was not quite it, or maybe that was only a _part_ of it.

Toothless did not understand why, he only wanted to avoid that topic. He could not lose control again and see the death of these trustful eyes having a hatchling's faith in him.

He would have killed the boy. If not for Hiccup's scream**, **he would have cut that adorable, small body into bloody pieces. He had to learn how to guard his mind better! This new ability, was too dangerous**, **and he was the only one experiencing it. Toothless started to experience it strongly recently and it was already too much for him to control.

But the boy had seen his thoughts**, **as well**, **when he was _awake-when-sleeping_!

"How did you know about my mom?" Hiccup asked softly and kindly, his face unperturbed.

YOU TELL ME LAST NIGHT

Toothless wrote with difficulty. He felt the boy's pull again, weaker than before**, **but still present. Should he run? It would alarm the boy and he would surely follow him. He still could think clearly**;** he could still control himself.

_Don't run away! Don't run away_! he urged himself and closed his eyes, concentrating more than before.

"I don't remember it," Hiccup said uncertainly, and the dark drawing force on Toothless's skull increased.

Hastily, he concentrated on his mind.

YOU DREAM AND TELL ME ALL

_Reduce the trembling, raise the body temperature, decrease the heartbeat_, Toothless instructed himself. However, there was no relief, no pause for him to concentrate fully. His body already tensed**, **and he felt the metallic desire for blood in his mouth. No. Hiccup trusted him! He would not hurt him!

He focused on his brain, the area he usually always avoided and**, **just as his jaws widened to bite, he released the energy.

His body convulsed as if treated with an electric shock**, **and then it stilled.

"Toothless!" Hiccup yelled, jumping to his feet, the dragon's tail limply falling off his lap. The dragon heard the quick steps and saw two tiny legs in front of his resting muzzle.

"Oh Gods! Don't die!" The boy yelled in pure horror and pulled the big head up to look at it, his green tunic becoming stained with red drops flowing rapidly from the Fury's nostrils.

_Everything is under control_! Toothless thought, forcing a small smile, _I just probably destroyed half of my brain! _he added happily, feeling euphoric, despite being unable to move his paralysed body.

The boy quickly ripped part of his tunic, struggling with the last scrap, unable to detach it from the tunic.

"Fuck!" Hiccup shouted**, ** and the material let go after a forceful movement. He pressed the cloth to the bleeding nose.

"Hang in there, buddy!" he shouted, trying not to let the panic overwhelm him on seeing how fast his tunic got soaked with redness.

One moment ago they were trying to have a serious conversation and,in the next moment, the dragon was bleeding from his nose and smiling stupidly.

It was some sort of head injury**, **and Hiccup did not know anything about helping dragons, he did not know anything at all!

The pain Hiccup felt, Toothless felt it as well, violently rending his heart. He did not feel the connection anymore, but even without it, he could see the boy's feelings right through the youth's now teary eyes.

Forcing himself to his limits, he smiled with his usual, silly smile, in a last attempt to assure the sad, small being who held his head that everything would be all right.

He did not remember if the smile disappeared as his eyes closed and his head crashed on the boy's blood-stained hands. He remembered**, **though the smell, always the same, comforting and satisfying beyond words.

Death would be easy in these arms.

His thoughts disappeared suddenly, like a candle flame blown out by a sudden, tempestuous gust of wind.

* * *

"Oy, he is comin'!" one of the spectators shouted loudly, pointing from the Kill Ring's second level at the small figure running on the path leading to the construct.

It was the first fight with a dragon led by the Chieftain's son**, **and it was unusual for the main participant to be late. Hiccup's becoming the official commander of the team was not a surprise to anyone. He had won every dragon combat so far and showed extraordinary talent in that.

Soon more people joined in, cheering as Hiccup, without even looking at them, sprinted inside and stopped by the other trainees.

Boilpus did not join the commotion, gulping quickly from his pocket flask and breathing out, grimacing. The _akvavit_ was quite strong.

He was attending for the first time, free of guarding duty for today. He was curious about whether the village-destructing catastrophe was,indeed**, **transforming into a new dragon slayer, as the rumour had it.

Besides, Hiccup had apologised to him for ruining his chainmail collection and that was something.

He still missed his armour, though.

Hiccup stood still, receiving final instructions from Gobber.

Today they would fight a Zippleback again, for the first time as the team with Hiccup commanding**.**

The guard lifted his hip flask again, but his hand stopped dead above his opened mouth. He did not feel the spirit dribbling on his lips and on his black beard.

He could not move as he saw what Hiccup was doing.

The din died slowly as people started noticing the same thing Boilpus just had.

"Orders?" a quiet, but crystalline clear voice resounded in the silence, coming from the biggest of the boys in the ring.

The tower guard noticed the waste of his precious beverage and cursed quietly, trying to catch the last few drops from the, now empty pocket flask.

"None, I will do this myself," a dark, measured voice answered as Boilpus's eyes widened inside his flask.

His eyes shot to the arena once again. Yes, it was indeed _Hiccup_ who had said that. His voice was nasally but still has dark, measured power that should be respected. Who would have thought?

The man grinned, his breath reeking of alcohol. Losing the akvavit was a small price to pay compared to the spectacle he was watching. He was not the only one with high anticipations.

"You can't be serious? Alone against the dragon?" the twin-girl snorted, "...Somebody got hit in the head too strongly."

The other trainees exchanged worried looks between each other.

"Release the dragon!" Hiccup shouted to Gobber, standing above the Zippleback's door. The other trainees gripped their water-filled buckets harder.

"I-I think the result would be less risk prone if you carried your bucket in your hand," the giant teen said.

"It's fine, keep your ground and do not follow me," Hiccup said gravely, his words ringing with power, nodding to Gobber.

Somebody whistled quietly in amazement and another one shouted "Go, lad!".

Soon other cries joined**,** and applause thundered between the Ring walls.

The dragon's cage opened**,** and immediately the arena was filled with green gas. Hiccup stood, his hair unruly and shaggy, his eyes indifferent, looking unimpressed by the action, but yet blazing with concentration.

The observing guard grabbed at the chain-net, looking as close as he could, eyes widened with amazement as the boy, without a helmet or bucket ran into the mist, submerging into it as if in water.

The green fog whirled where the brave leader had entered it, and then lulled back into stillness.

Everybody gazed at what would happen. Such courageous action, so Viking-like!

From the dragon-spawned mist, a loud hiss emerged and then a loud growl.

From the trainee group, one girl separated, running into the fog as well.

"Astrid, stop!" Snotlout yelled after her.

There was another hiss**, **and Boilpus saw that the teens were ready to burst after their leader at any moment.

And then, everybody heard the doors closing shut, or what sounded like closing.

Immediately after, Hiccup emerged out from the wall of explosive fog. Nobody knew if it was the end of the fight. Soon the mist cleared, revealing the closed door and no dragon in sight.

The mob applauded together in one dinning voice, clapping, shouting and thudding with their boots against the floor.

Boilpus found himself shouting to the boy who already asked for the gate door to be opened. It was done promptly and**,** just as the metal gates were lifted, Hiccup sprinted, but not to the people who wanted to meet with him, but away from the ring, as fast as if the Fenrir itself was chasing him.

That was a surprise for all the supporters who stopped clapping just afterwards.

Boilpus looked at his empty pocket flask again, with a thought to refill it as soon as possible. He would drink to the new champion's health after all

* * *

Hiccup never had run as fast and as long as then.

After the fight with the Zippleback, he rocketed into his house and started ransacking every place he could think of in search for medical supplies, bandages, any ointment. And furs! He had to get furs!

A big, woollen sack was soon swollen with the findings. One of them was a nice-looking bandage with the balm Vikings used to warm up joint sprains or bruises.

Hiccup did not have time to ponder who might have left it**;** he did not care much at that time.

His only objective was to go back to Toothless as fast as possible.

At the thought of the dragon, he let out a strangled yell of frustration and doubled his efforts.

Grabbing a string full of salted fish and chucking it inside the sack without any care**,** he jumped outside, running to Raven point. His knee hurt from the workout. He ignored it**,** as he did not want to feel any tiredness or pain.

He saw the fallen tree across the chasm. He sprung onto its top and ran across it, a daring move he had never tried before. It was the shortest way to the cove**,** and he would not waste time on anything.

Immersing into the tree line on the other side**,** he took out an eel from beneath his vest and threw it away, angrily.

He had been forced to abandon a bleeding, injured and unconscious Fury just to go perform an amazing dragon attack-trick in front of the vulgar folk!

It had been a very hard decision for him, to leave his friend in such a dire state.

But he had to prioritise. If he did not show up, the Vikings would start searching for him and asking questions.

He had most probably raised suspicion with his fast victory and hasty escape, but he would deal it when the time arose. For now, he had to concentrate on Toothless.

The dragon's body had been so cold when he left! He could not feel Toothless breathing, could not perceive a heartbeat, almost as if he... he...

"No!"Hiccup yelled loudly, trying to get rid of the feelings scorching across his mind. He felt his eyes grow hot and the wind brushing his face as he ran. He could not cool them down.

He would not believe it. Not like that, not in this way, not so suddenly.

He still had so many things to ask, so many things to learn.

Not once did he stumble or fall, and not once had the despair left him since the previous night.

With mad stubbornness, he continued his dash, holding the sack on his back with his both hands.

The trip to the cove, done in a record time, was taking too long. Every breath took too long, and the heartbeat felt in his temples seemed to slow him down.

He welcomed the sight of the entrance to the cove with heart-clutching fear.

The sun blinded him for a moment, filling his sight with whiteness**,** but then he saw the empty space in front of him. Empty.

His baggage dropped as he processed forward in weak steps.

"Toothless!" he croaked, his voice hoarse from all the time he had spent darting. His head averted rapidly to the water line.

Between the reed bushes, he saw a pitch-dark head, tilted questioningly with the usual enormous eyes glaring at him, as if to ask why Hiccup had to shout so loud.

It was one of these moments in life when everything fearful and worrisome could be cast away like a bad delusion in only one glance.

He hurled and hung himself on Toothless's neck, pressing his face to the scaled skin, sobbing quietly.

The Fury, bearing a surprised expression at first, allowed a warm smile to appear while he gently laid his head on his friend's back.

"I-I'm so sorry for leaving you!" Hiccup rasped, his head still squeezed to the neck base. His fingers dig into the dragon's skin, unable to keep the burning guilt inside, "I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry Toothless!" he kept apologising, feeling the weight of his friend that**,** instead of burdening, rather supported him.

Undisturbed, Hiccup let his relief and happiness mix with his sorrow and cried freely, as long as he wanted**,** and as long as he needed.

Finally, Hiccup rubbed his sleeve over his eyes and sniffed a few times, still staying low. He did not want to face the dragon like this, not with such a miserable face.

He let his tears dry, before he stood up.

"Well**,** look at you!" he said, dying his voice with humour. His noticed his own eyes were puffed and red, his nose running**,** and Toothless's nose and muzzle marked with dried blood.

"You look how I feel," Hiccup stated and then, as if making sure he was not looking at an illusion, he ran back to his sack and took out a woollen towel.

He soaked it into the lake water and then started wiping every place on Toothless's nose, not forgetting to clean it inside. The dragon grimaced and turned his head away.

"Lie down, I have to do this!" Hiccup said sternly.

Resigned, the black mass of dragon curled into the ground and the youth kneeled in front of him, wiping his muzzle in gentle movements with more tenderness he had ever showed anyone before.

He never really had any chance to show his caring side, but it was a big part of his being, and he enjoyed finally being able to show this aspect. He wanted to care about his friend: unquestionably and always willing, trustful and supportive.

It was then, when he removed the last of the dried blood with a ragged cloth, that he realized he loved this dragon. This was the friend he would never want to lose, a friend who had helped him discover himself.

Being with the dragon had never made him feel more... human than ever before.

He thought for a moment if that meant that, when Toothless was with him, he actually felt more like a dragon.

None of them knew how truthful this was.

* * *

He lay still, covered in various furs and ate the offered repast. He woke up after another of the short naps he felt he needed, as the weakness attacked him more suddenly.

His mind was still clouded and incoherent**;** however, after each awakening he felt a bit better, always welcomed by that human gleeful chirping and an affectionate touch.

The light penetrating his eyelids hurt him. Luckily, Hiccup understood his grunts and his trying to cover his head clumsily with his wing membrane. Toothless now lay still, his eyes covered with a dampened cloth, head on his clanmate's lap, letting himself think about everything and nothing. As long as these tiny hands caressed him, nothing mattered.

The dragon had felt better after he had first awakened, still feeling the warmness on his side and a notebook opened right in front of his eyes with big, violently-written letters filling the whole two pages.

I WILL BE BACK!

Of course he would be. Toothless did not believe for a moment that it would be in any other way.

He had staggered to the water to drink, feeling the dry taste of blood in his mouth. He had breathed through his opened mouth, unable to use his nose, blocked with dried blood. He did not feel all the painful consequences he would experience soon. He drank**,** and the next thing he remembered was Hiccup hugging him and something warm trickling on his skin.

The boy had cried again, because of him.

How shameful of him to make the one he was supposed to protect weep once more!

The evening came again with shivers**,** and his temperature dropped again. The chill of the night added to the incoherent visions he experienced. He did not remember any of them, only that every thought squashed his brain with the strength of the Viking war hammer.

Morning brought silence. Only that. His mind did not register any sound or feeling or render any thoughts. So he slept again.

Then he awoke in the evening. His mind was clear again**,** as if coming to his senses after a very long slumber.

His faithful companion was still near him, smelling acutely of sweat, of the dragon's own blood and carrying the stench of tiredness, human sweat and fear.

He stood up on shaking legs, weak as a newly hatched offspring. The thick cover of furs dropped off him. Hiccup said something loudly in worry, trying to support him, lifting up one wing to drape it over his own bony shoulder.

Oh, who would have thought! A tiny human trying to support his weight! Toothless had relied on his clanmate for too long and**,** besides, he did not need his company at that precise moment. He only wanted to relieve himself from the unimaginable pressure on his bladder.

Hiccup remained in sight, averting his head modestly as the dragon did what he had to. Toothless was too tired to show any emotions. He sniffed, catching the smell of blood in the urine.

He must have damaged his kidney function with that spontaneous decision. Lovely. Was his right wing paralysed and numb? Excellent. His muscles twitching uncontrollably? Charming.

Normally, he would have howled in despair however, the youth's familiar presence gave him a very, peculiar feeling that it would be all right, that he would get healthy again.

Toothlessnever believed such words. He only believed in dry, unquestionable facts and the fact was that he did not know if he would be fine or not.

Was the damage permanent or only temporary, time would reveal the answer, as always.

He walked slowly, Hiccup shuffling with him in silence, holding the right wing folded, lest it would plop to the ground and be dragged along.

Toothless realized it was all a fair price to pay, since he accomplished his objective. He now remembered it clearly.

The connection with the human was severed.

The Fury could not sense Hiccup's mind anymore. Part of the Fury was glad of it and**,** yet**,** part missed it, sensing that his mind he had relied on for his whole life, suddenly felt lonesome without the recent contact from the youth. Now, he was fully aware of how much of his emotions were actually also influenced by his partner's.

He would not hurt Hiccup anymore.

The faces the boy was making were alien**,** and he could not find any meaning to them. They were only...sad.

Previously, he would have known what to feel and what to do to ease the patient youth. What did it mean when he played with a grass blade, after laying the furs on the dragon again after Toothless lay back on his side. Did it mean something special when the human bit his lower lip after looking at him?

It pained him, that powerlessness.

He would think of something, he _would_, but he felt so tired. Only a short sleep, that was all he needed and after it, he would be back to his old self...

Toothless breathed out deeply, and just like that, he fell asleep.

* * *

"You do not look well," Fishlegs said, putting a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. The boy forced a subtle smile.

"Don't worry, Fish. Let's just follow the plan**,** and we'll finish this in no time," the scrawny leader nodded.

Dark skin under his eyes, a scratched face and exhausted looking-eyes should have made him look weaker, but Hiccup's straight posture and the exact**,** focused stare made him look dangerous**,** and every trainee knew that.

Especially after the Zippleback fight and yesterday's training. Yesterday, Hiccup had led**,** and this time there was no sign of insubordination or misinterpreted instruction. They never knew the small youth could force respect just with his voice and gaze.

"Of course! I believe in you!" The giant teen answered simply with the usual friendly attitude, uncaring on how corny his words were.

Hiccup smiled, weakly, but, for the first time that day, honestly. Even if worry and tiredness challenged him and drained his feelings out, he knew such support gave him strength.

Outside the barred-door, the cheering was loud. The group stood between the entrance and the door leading to the arena, which was the only one place they were partially hidden from view and Hiccup could speak one last time before the fight started.

He huffed sharply, walked in front of the awaiting trainees and rubbed his hands together, a smaller portrait of his father when he had something hard to say.

"I know I may not be the best leader you wanted, but I am the best you got and I will do my best to make sure you all survive this training," he said, looking into each of the young warrior's eyes, not sacrificing any more time on Astrid's than on the others. She was his subordinate now**,** and now was a good time to address a few issues he had with her.

Pacing in front of the aligned teens, he continued, "I know some of you still have problems with me taking charge. Let me make something clear here," he stopped in front of Tuffnut and Snotlout, standing as always next to each other.

"I don't care," he said with such coldness and indifference on his face that even a deaf person would cringe, just looking at him.

"I don't care if you have problems with me or not. I am the leader now**,** and you will listen to me. Do you agree with this, Tuffnut?" he zoomed close to the mentioned boy, which almost made the twin fall backwards.

"Yes! Yes! Relax**,** dude!" the blonde boy shrugged and stepped back into the line grinning, "No need to be so stiff! I think that what you did with that Zippleback, twice, was awesome!"

He raised his fists in excitement and then jabbed Snotlout with his elbow, expecting a reaction with a happy expression still plastered to his face.

His dark-haired friend seemed to ignore the sign. Tuffnut averted his head to his friend.

"We agreed to say it today!" he hissed with force.

"I'm not saying it!" Snotlout said back in a clearly heard whisper. Hiccup watched the exchange in cold amusement.

"Pussy," Tuffnut said with contempt and then looked at the small boy in front of him, "He thinks you were awesome as well," he said impassively.

A muscled arm immediately closed on his neck**,** and he started chocking for breath.

"I do not!" Snotlout yelled viciously, holding his traitorous friend's head under his arm.

"I am in pain! So much pain!" the twin boy wheezed out, struggling for breath.

"Thank you, both," Hiccup said, chiming into their bonding moment, "However, what you think of me is irrelevant. All I need from you, today, is to follow my orders. Can I count on you?" he asked, expecting just one answer.

"Ok... I guess," Tuffnut said unsurely, looking at his friend who crossed arms on his chest, saying the simple, "Whatever," as an answer to everything.

"Excellent," Hiccup said in the same, serious monotone his father used so often.

He had their cooperation**,** and that was all he was interested in at the moment.

"Astrid," perfectly composed and fearless, he approached the last Viking teen in the line. The blonde girl flicked her head, but her eyes showed at least some emotions compared to the boy in front of her.

"No solo actions this time. No adding your own ideas in the middle of the fight**,** and no beating your own teammates this time," Hiccup said unbiasedly. He did not even flinch when Astrid made a movement to approach him, stopping quickly and retreating to her previous spot, not answering.

"Astrid," the thin teen said, striding even closer towards the golden-haired female warrior, getting into a distance he would have formerly considered as a dangerously close.

Which was exactly what Astrid was thinking, unable to detach her attention from the grass-green, focused eyes, drilling into her own.

"I don't want to lose you," Hiccup said, with such seriousness and sincerity that the well-formed girl's chin dropped**,** and two red spots entered her face. She barely caught the following phrase: a few words about needing her strength and the best way of survival.

"Deal?" Hiccup asked precipitously.

"Deal," she replied weakly.

"Good. We start immediately," he said with a nod and turned away to face the barred door, raising his fist as a signal to open it.

"Nobody dies today!" he shouted back, a fire blazing in his eyes for the first time, as the door lifted upwards, "Let's go**,** team!"

He ran out first into the Ring**,** and the enormous crowd thundered their cheers at the young champions.

Hiccup took his laminate, prepared on the weapon stand, his arrows ready in a red-leather case attached to his left thigh. These arrows were the key to his victory. If everything went well, he would need only one shot.

He did not feel much pain or fatigue. Something propelled him forward with unrestrained force.

He had not slept in two days or eaten decently, and ye the felt full of energy. Thoughts about how unusual or amazing this was never crossed his mind.

Tuffnut and Snotlout positioned themselves on his left, Ruffnut and Astrid on his right, creating a V shape**,** with Fishlegs standing in front of Hiccup.

The plan was to deplete the Gronkle's fireballs and then keep the dragon in place for the archer to immobilise it. If only one well-trained Viking could do this with the dragon, six trainees should not have any problems at all.

In theory.

He strung the arrow, one with a leather sack filled with sand at the top and waited.

He did not have to wait for long. The cage doors burst open and, as in its previous flight, the Gronkle rocketed out, scanning the area, wings buzzing threateningly. Noticing the target, it zoomed quickly to the ground to catch and bite into the prepared stones.

A moment later, a double-bladed spear nailed the space where the bulblike head should have been.

The Gronkle avoided the projectile with a swift lift and scooped the rock into its mouth without hesitating.

So much for preventing the dragon from gaining ammunition!

"Tuffnut**,** don't go for the spear! Shield yourself! Incoming!" Hiccup yelled, hiding behind Fishlegs's back.

He moved forward as a dragon zoomed through the air, but instead of trying to shoot a fireball, it attempted to ram the enemy. The sound of a dull crash resounded.

_It hit the shield_, the small youth thought calmly.

"Missed me!" Snotlout shouted after the beast as he stepped away, barely avoiding the crash. The dragon at the yell had made a very graceful and un-Gronckle-like sudden twist in the air, shooting another destructive ball so fast that human eyes could not follow the movement.

It was shared luck apparently, because that blast hit a lowered shield.

In a blare of shattered wood, Snotlout flew backwards, his sneering grin changing into a shocked expression before slamming into the wall with devastating force.

"Fishlegs!" Hiccup said sharply**, **and his friend ran at once to the collapsed teen.

"Stay focused, make noise!" Hiccup ordered, gritting his teeth. He had told them so many times not to lower their defences. So many times!

_Five shots_! It rang in his mind. He sprinted to the weapon stand, stowing his arrow into the thigh-quiver**, **and took a shield into his left hand, squeezing the bow in his sweaty right palm. His team circled the dragon, slamming their shields. The Gronkle shook its head, growling and looking stupefied.

It was still too risky for the auburn-haired youth to shoot, yet. Before he joined the circle**, **the flying creature shot another blazing projectile. It exploded on Astrid's shield, throwing her forcefully on the stony floor.

"Don't stop!" Hiccup bellowed, seeing the fierce-looking Viking girl stand up almost immediately.

"Four," he then whispered, gazing above the rim of his shield at the dragon. It roared in frustration and fled skyward, circling by the chained ceiling, observing the humans beneath.

Fishlegs was back and positioned himself in front of the red-headed youth.

"He seems fine, nothing broken I think. He is unconscious now. Good thing the helmet took most of the shock," the bulky warrior said hastily, wiping sweat from his face.

Hiccup dropped his shield, taking out the arrow again. He noticed that Snotlout had been hidden behind the weapon stand. Wise decision. The dragon seemed to attack only the things it saw and**,** from what Hiccup had learned from Toothless, they were not interested in attacking resting and defenceless targets,as these were not a threat.

"Wall!"Hiccup yelled**,** and the group formed a straight line, kneeling on their right knees and raising their shields.

The Gronkle blasted another fireball,which detonated on the shield-line without harming anyone.

_Three_, Hiccup thought.

The small wings stopped working and a monolithic body hung for a split moment in the air before it began dropping down at the shield-wielders.

"Run!" Hiccup managed to scream**,** and he jumped away as the brown, armoured body crashed on the ground, chipping the rocks there beneath its short legs.

Hiccup landed on his feet, bow strung, the wood singing under the force. The arrow tip looked puny to him; a leather head instead of sharpened iron, but it would have to do. The point moved up and down with his rapid breathing.

The Gronkle did not waste any moment. It lowered its head quickly, avoiding Ruffnut's thrust, and rammed into her shield, sending her flying. She rolled and stood up, helmet cocked and shield held forward, not lowering her guard even for a moment. It paid off as the globe of fire broke on the buckler in a gush of reddish-orange flame.

"Two," Hiccup whispered, following the dragon's head in front of him.

The Gronkle jumped back so fast it left only a hastened gust of wind**, **along with a surprised Astrid with her axe, which was supposed to be implanted in the round head, now lying on the ground.

The young leader now had another piece of information about the dragon he fought, and one he did not like. That Gronkle could control the power of its fireballs. The blast that struck Snotlout was easily five times more powerful than the one that Ruffnut took on her shield.

What if the dragon could 'choose' which one of its fireballs made a sure kill by taking the energy the stone material provided from the previous shots?

"Bash your shields!" Hiccup commanded loudly, aiming at the head. It was too risky to use the bow while the Gronkle still could breathe out fire.

The ringing cacophony caused the dragon to retreat further, almost touching the wall with its small, spiked-sphere of a tail.

The trainees approached, walking forward in a half-circle formation.

"Don't attack it, yet!" Hiccup said loudly and those words meant 'don't kill it'.

The dragon's xanthous eyes looked at him**,** and he felt penetrated by them, an experience he often felt when Toothless looked at him.

The dark pupils relaxed, staring at the youth, just before wings flapped rapidly and the dragon darted up, shooting a fireball beneath itself.

The trainees shielded themselves before the incoming blast.

When they were able to look ahead, the dragon was already above their heads, rushing towards the only human in the ring without any defence.

_One!_

That was not in any of Hiccup's strategic plans. He had overlooked one crucial detail.

Toothless might not be the only battle-experienced dragon.

The sabre-teethed maw opened,and an orange glow was starting to brighten at the back of the dragon's throat.

Hiccup's decision was instantaneous. He _had_ to survive this match.

He let the bow-string go, stopping his breath and thoughts, and at the same moment**, **the magmatic sphere blasted in his direction.

One of them missed.

With a thundering crash, the Gronkle's unconscious body slammed onto the floor, sliding on it. The strong wind caused by the heavy frame that had barely missed him still blasted Hiccup's hair backwards.

He stood, motionless, eyes locked in front of him, widened in shock.

The arrow quivered in the air after hitting the dragon's nose, spreading the white powder hidden inside on the beast's muzzle. As its shaft clonked on the ground, Hiccup was called back to reality.

The boy looked back, remembering to inhale, not registering the loud clapping and shouting. He suddenly felt weak, as the fervour of battle started wearing off.

The Gronkle had missed, and it seemed to have done so on purpose.

Hiccup saw the hole in the wall in front of the motionless, scale-plated frame.

Taking out his dagger with his right hand**,** he circled around the creature to see its head.

The powder he used to fill the arrows was not supposed to cause sleeping, but sneezing. It was one of the gifts from Braedan, a choking pulverisation that turned out to make dragons sneeze and add a nice reddish colour to their flame.

But the dragon looked as if it were sleeping**; **it even snored quietly.

Hiccup's job was done here.

With a sudden start, he remembered about Snotlout and ran away from the defeated predator, never noticing a tip of its mouth rising in a smirk.

"Snot!" Tuffnut yelled, shaking his friend's shoulders furiously.

"I-I don't think it's a good idea to do this to somebody with a probable concussion," Fishlegs muttered shyly. His valuable insight was ignored, as usual, as Snotlout opened his eyes and grinned doltishly.

"Was it good for you?" he mumbled his first words.

Hiccup felt relief, seeing his cousin slowly stand up; still, he had to remind him about his mistake.

"Why did you lower your shield?" the bony champion said as sternly as he could, feeling exhaustion take control of him.

"I did not!" Snotlout answered angrily, putting a hand to his forehead and groaning, "I have never seen a dragon fire so fast before. I did not even see it coming!" he said defensively.

Hiccup's eyes narrowed as his focus turned to that moment. He did not want to admit it, but his relative was right.

The poorly-muscled Viking had never seen such quick movements done by a dragon.

Except one.

This was not a good sign, but everybody had survived only with a few bruises and one hurting head.

"Guys I need to talk to you, quickly," Hiccup said, walking closer to the group, gesturing them to form a circle, before the crowd would disturb them even further.

The boy was devotedly thankful for the two barred-doors separating him from the obnoxious back-patting mob.

"I want you," he inhaled through his nose, all the battle-participants looking at him, "I want you not to kill dragons when fighting them in the Ring," he said quickly, expecting the most natural reaction.

" Wha-?" Snotlout said, dumbfounded**,** with wide eyes.

"The Hel?" Tuffnut finished.

Astrid swung her head in denial**,** and Ruffnut actually grinned.

"Hiccup, but...why?" Fishlegs whispered, surprised but the proposing teen was grateful for his reaction.

"Think about it," Hiccup said calmly, "Capturing dragons is never easy. For every one killed in the arena, another would have to be caught and, most probably, several lives would be lost," he said with seriousness, his words clearly heard over the gleeful buzzing above them. The surrounding youths calmed down and listened.

"I know from Gobber that it takes a long time to make any dragon adjust to its cage and**,** even then, it is a dangerous task. I do not want us to endanger others," he said, accenting the last sentence.

"All right, let's say we agree to this idea," Ruffnut said, carefully looking around her to catch the others' reactions, "What do you suggest then?" she asked, carefully.

"I am not sure," Hiccup replied honestly.

The group remained in a very rare tactful silence, feeling that the boy had not finished

"I only presented an idea**,** and I would like you to consider it. It is our responsibility**,** as well**,** to help save more lives."

He put his bow across his back and hid the dagger in his back vest pocket, "Just try not to kill the dragons whenever possible. Just... think about it," he saidand then cleared his throat.

"So...," he clapped his hands, smiling sheepishly for the first time that day, "See you tomorrow!" he threw out and ran to the exit.

It was opened immediately and the scrawny boy ran, his yells of "Sure, I will drink with you, but later!," and, "I-I think I am not ready for marriage yet!" were heard up to the ring.

"There he runs again," Ruffnut croaked humorously.

Snotlout remained with his completely uninterested look for a little longer, but then turned to Tuffnut, "How did he do it this time?" he asked excitedly.

"Oh**,** dude**,** you should have seen that!" the blonde male said loudly, agitated, "there was this BAM! And then the Gronkle ZOOMED!" he coloured his speech with wide hand gesticulations, "And Hiccup just stood there**,** and then he and the dragon looked at each other and BANG!"

Astrid tossed her axe over her shoulder and started walking out with Ruffnut joining her.

They missed Gobber exchanging greetings with two large-looking Vikings.

The blacksmith approached the sleeping dragon and,with his helpers, they started pulling its body by its tail to its cage. However, the blacksmith stopped after a moment and wobbled to the centre of the Ring. He lifted the arrow Hiccup had used on the dragon and studied it attentively between his fingers.

"Gobber?" one of his assistants said after him.

The moustached trainer quickly hid the arrow beneath his vest and**,** with a radiant smile and an apology, he turned back to help with the task.

* * *

"Come on, eat up!" Hiccup said encouragingly, grabbing another fish from the small pile and putting it into Toothless's mouth. The dragon grabbed the cod weakly between his fangs and chewed slowly.

A small fire cracked quietly on the right side of the teen.

Hiccup had started it when his dark-coloured friend was still asleep, using the two pieces of flint in his pocket, one of the things everybody carried, but seldom used.

He did not have time to eat after the training. Grabbing a fish basket by the Warehouse and running to the dragon was the only thing he allowed himself to do, not forgetting to get rid of the eel. They were now part of his permanent equipment additions for any dragon fight. Even if they proved useless in the end.

His meal, two medium sized salmons, was sizzling quietly, skewered and gutted.

He broke a piece of the one that looked ready, and checked if the meat was cooked properly. He bit deeply into the fish, still far from the ravening hunger of Toothless. He only ate more because he knew he should than because of actual hunger.

Every movement of the devitalised dragon made him jerk nervously.

Hiccup finished his fish down to the last bite, satisfied that Toothless ate all the food he had brought as well.

During the previous few days**, **he had carried many things into this place. He threw a twig into the fire and dunked a piece of green, woollen material into the small, round flask filled with sheep's fat and started rubbing it into the harness ropes to impregnate the cord.

Manual work was an excellent way to take his mind off the worrying about life and the general unfairness of the universe.

He took his time, being finical to every detail. He would use it to fly with Toothless**, **after all**, **and it had to be in perfect shape.

Hiccup would secure the harness on his anticipating body, joking how Toothless might hurt himself, waggling his tail so much. And the dragon would snort with dignity and smack his head lightly and**, **as always, with carefully measured strength.

His hand ran over the rope faster.

Toothless would smirk with his usual, self-exalting smile and gesture with his head for him to climb on. They would fly freely**, **and the Fury would roar in joy, followed by his trilled laugh.

This was how he had imagined it.

...The powerful wings would work smoothly...

_...Not lie limply by his side like his right wing now_

His eyes would shine with energy.

_Not look lifeless, tired and empty._

Hiccup was a Viking, he had gotten used to the thoughts of death and pain, so common around him.

He shuddered violently at the slightly louder sigh Toothless uttered, dropping the rubbing cloth, breathing loudly, eyes feverishly locked into the dark muzzle.

Making sure that the dragon was still breathing, that this sigh was not his last breath.

Hiccup's heart pulsated crazily in his chest, a cold shiver running across his skin.

Toothless breathed in again, and the boy pressed a hand to his eyes.

He had never felt so afraid in his life.

This fear was so strong it blinded him, not allowing him to think about anything else, as a burning obsession, turning his mind slowly into ashes.

He looked at his cloth and he saw it covered in blood. He yelled loudly, throwing it quickly into the fire and crawling away from it.

He then realised that it was just an illusion of the flames and his mind.

Gods, he was going crazy! What exactly happened with Toothless? Why had it happened? Was it his fault? It was so terrifying not to know anything, feeling so powerless.

He knew that there was nothing in all of Berk's books that would contain anything about dragon healing**, **and he could not ask Fishlegs such a question without seeming suspicious.

He could only watch while his friend faded slowly before his exhausted eyes.

Toothless sighed again and opened his eyes slowly.

"H-hi there, buddy. Sorry for waking you up," Hiccup breathed out hastily, quickly wiping out the sweat from his face "These-these pieces of cloth are really something terrifying! They make you scream and... have a strong desire to burn them!" he said attempting to sound sarcastic**, ** adding a few unconvincing chuckles, "As my dad says, 'Burn 'em until nothin' remains!'. I just don't think he meant woollen fabric by that," he grinned feebly, sitting again in front of the fire place and ripping off a bit more material from the small roll.

Toothless whined, raised his head and scribbled feebly in the earth.

REST

"B-but I am all fresh and energetic! Look at this astonishingly handsome body!" Hiccup gestured to all of himself, "So-so there is absolutely no reason for me to rest! Just go back to your nap**, ** and I will be here," he said with a careless-looking smile.

The dragon did not look convinced at all.

Hiccup did not want to sleep**;** what if he slept and woke up to find Toothless lying there, cold and static.

LOOK

The lying Fury wrote and looked up from his claw to the boy's face.

Slightly opening his mouth, the dragon closed his eyes and with a gentle exhale, a small, shining blue orb flew out from between his jaws. Hiccup leaned back instinctively.

Toothless wanted to do something to him again. Even if it always seemed to serve his good**, ** he did not want to lose his connection to the waking world. Not now.

A pitiful whine emerged from the dragon's body. Hiccup clenched his teeth together. He could not decline his friend. He would have done everything to make the Fury's state more bearable. If Toothless wanted him to look at the shiny, levitating ball filled with blue lightnings, well**, **he would do it.

"All light, you lazy lizard, I will do it" the teen said, putting down the cloth and the cord, his face brightening with a simpering smile, "But you'll have a lot of explaining to do later," he added with narrowed eyes, now very serious.

"Well**, ** see you soon," Hiccup stated and the dragon rumbled in agreement.

With this small assurance, the boy corrected his cross-legged position and concentrated on the hovering sphere. His breathing eased and**, ** slowly, he let his mind relax and fill with blankness. He felt his mind being pervaded by the flickering azure and before he knew it, the globe flashed and nothing mattered anymore.

* * *

Toothless felt relief, that Scalgertar decided to follow his request. There was a little time before the dragon would doze off again. Hiccup's eyes became empty and glassy, his face emotionless. The tiredness radiated from the pup's body. His scent, skin colour, body gestures, everything pointed at the well-hidden fatigue. If not mainly for the smell, Toothless would have problems detecting Hiccup's condition without the connection. The boy was excellent at hiding things, truly skilful at deception.

The dragon growled quietly, focusing the boy's attention on him. It was impossible to say if Scalgertar was able to conceive of what he was doing and if his reaction were cognitive or were simply an automated reaction. It did not matter at that point. If something worked, it should have been left as it was without interruptions, correspondingly with Toothless's beliefs.

BREATHE

He wrote in the earth and Hiccup started to take in the air deeply and slowly, making the pauses between the exhalations with exact intervals.

The technique Toothless was using on Hiccup was the one that was used on hatchlings to make them learn.

A newly born dragon was always highly aggressive; a primitive animated being motivated strictly by bare instincts: aggressive and most efficient. Taming such a creature with conventional methods was almost impossible. Every type of dragon had to find a way to quarry the deeply-hidden consciousness and intelligence. Toothless's kind was taught to use specific body vibrations to cause the hatchling to still and then entrap its mind by using the Lesser Lightning Spirit. It was an ability to hypnotise the one subjected to it, but such skill did not come easily**, ** as the light had to pulsate with the specific intervals. However, at that time he had had an excellent object to experiment upon. His younger brother. He was quite naive and after their sister showed them this, "To help with their pups when they would start a new family", he practised it on his sibling. After many fails, he succeeded, but did not use it to enlighten the young's mind further He did notice that hypnotised individuals were very obedient. As every good thing**, ** it came to an end, when his sister saw the little one placing freshly hunted fish in front of Toothless' self-praising muzzle, nodding to the torrent of compliments.

The older dragoness taught Toothless two things after this encounter.

One. Fire bolts at the back of your running body hurt a lot.

Two. He _could_ eat grass. Hypnotised in the same way his little brother was, but still. He did not remember a thing after a several days of such treatment, but to this day, he liked to nibble a grass occasionally.

Good, old times.

With the young human male, everything was going too easy. Mesmerising was the easy part and that humans were able to get in that style of mind was nothing amazing for the dragon.

Hiccup's breathing eased further**, ** and his heartbeat weakened.

This was amazing**!**

After the last, long exhale, Scalgertar's eyes closed**, ** and the breathing with heartbeat stopped completely. It would appear for every human. Toothless still heard a very unhurried and quiet rustle of lungs and thumps of heart.

When the supportive Fury led his skinny clanmate into the thoughts-free state, he had never expected more than to relax the boy's hazed mind. Hiccup mimicked the breathing after him with such excellence that the dragon tried even more things. The boy responded to written commands with dragon-like obedience. This was how Toothless learned about what Hiccup was doing when away from the cove. He also missed his father dearly**, ** and the one that beat him was his female he yearned for. Truly strange mating rituals.

Then he instructed the youth to continue breathing as taught and relax his body and mind. Hiccup did as ordered and**, ** as the Fury checked on his elbow ( the only place cloth free thanks to the boy who had rolled his sleeves up), he observed that the swelling was slowly disappearing.

He considered if he had been the one who did that, but it was not possible as he could only treat external injuries. It was the human's own body doing the healing. Without years of practise and mind-training, as though it were something natural. Most intriguing, indeed.

It was what the dragon desired. Hiccup would be hypnotised**, ** and Toothless would train him. Change him without him knowing about it. Hiccup would be trained, no matter if Toothless would regain his strength or not.

The numbness in his right wing was slowly disappearing. Today he could sense the tingling sensation of the leather he was blanketed with.

He would be asleep soon. He looked at Hiccup's face. It so pale that it was almost white, still as the stones around him. The small fire near him reminded Toothless about one thing. With difficulty, he crawled to the boy and curled around him. The red-brownish hair draped on the dragon's side**, ** and the dragon coiled tighter, possessively.

So many dangers awaited Hiccup once he left him in this foolish race to improbable glory and certain death. The boy should not leave his side.

Toothless sighed, drowsiness dominating his will.

When he woke up, Hiccup was near him and it was still dark, for a human.

The boy was writing in his treasury of all knowledge and unclothed females, sitting on the fur blanket, face focused. He groaned softly and crossed on the page furiously.

Toothless rumbled humorously, seeing the youth's skin brightener and looking much better. The way Hiccup jumped back also made the dragon see that his body was in better condition now.

"Toothless! "he said, surprised as the big black lump of muscles just appeared out of thin air," How-how good you are awake and...laughing," he zoomed forward suddenly and grabbed the oval, dark head," No it's _great_! How are you buddy? " He asked, letting go off the smirking Fury who bashed his tail happily on the ground, letting know about his state.

"I was worried for a moment; you slept when I left and came back," Hiccup said naturally**, ** taking a short stick and poking at the flaming embers.

Toothless smile washed off. He had slept for the whole sun cycle, how pathetic! The only upsides of this were that his headache subsided**, ** and he could move part of his right wing.

"I am about as fine as usual," Hiccup stated, noticing the questioning glare," Strong, powerful, handsome and great with the ladies," he straightened, puffing his chicken-sized chest.

The dragon would not be himself if he did not snort,

" I really am! Well...except for strong-powerful-handsome-and-great-with-the-ladies . But… I am getting there!" he pointed at the dragon's muzzle, beaming.

Toothless nodded feverishly and**, ** when Hiccup looked away to the campfire with a content smile, he rolled his eyes.

The dragon stood up with some difficulty, as rain of pelts fell off him. There were enough animal skins on him to bury him alive! He looked back from the fur mountain to Hiccup**, ** who laughed nervously.

After his usual post-waking-up routine**, ** the dragon walked back to the boy an**, **d without invitation**, ** he curled his body around him.

The boy smiled warmly and closed the notebook. Toothless was able to catch the glimpse of the dragon's drawing, the one the humans called a Nadder.

HOW YOUR DRAGON TRAINING?

He wrote sloppily. Hiccup merely smirked.

"I see I've told you more things than about my mother. Has nobody taught you that using some sort of weird dragon magic on an unexpected victim and then using the situation to violate his privacy is a bad thing to do?" he asked, looking at his friend," No...most definitely not," he said indifferently and he looked as he wanted to open the sketch book again,.

He stopped his hand amidst the action," Which reminds me... you wanted to tell me something?" he inquired," Toothless!" he added crisply as the dragon only blinked twice with the cutest face he had. After a silent battle of who had the more determined gaze, the dragon gave up,sighing and defeated.

Hiccup grinned excitedly and asked first about the procedure the Fury had twice made him undergo. The boy's excitement dropped as it turned out he had been treated like a hatchling with the sole purpose of being healed,and that the dragon had been the one doing all the work.

He then asked about his back. This news he did not accept with a calm face. He had been harboring some serious infection for a long time and nobody had known about it. When he asked he asked how Toothless was able to detect it, the dragon thought for a moment before answering with the simple SMELL.

"You're quite amazing, aren't you?" Hiccup said, impressed. The Fury snorted. He _was_ amazing**, ** and it was tedious to hear it over and over again.

He caught the boy's face. There were more questions coming. Toothless felt comfortable about answering them**, ** however, he choose to omit some parts, like the explanation about the healing. He would not tell that he would use it later to train Hiccup.

"D-do you have a name?"Hiccup finally spewed out, looking down," You know, a dragon name?"

NO

The dragon answered simply. It was surprising for Toothless that from all the questions the youth could ask he had chose to query about him.

"And your family? Where are they? Are they somewhere near? If so. we could visit them later!" Hiccup said cheerfully and his smile disappeared quickly seeing the answer.

NOT ALIVE

"Sorry to hear that," Hiccup muttered, keeping the silence. Toothless did not look a bit abashed by the question and chirped encouragingly.

"What happened to you, bud? Why did you...become the way are now?" the boy asked, concentrating on the fire.

The dragon expected to be asked about it,but he had problems about how to answer the youth. How would he present complex concepts like mind-training, the inexplicable bond and the dark part of Hiccup's mind that caused him to act so violent? Toothless did not blame the boy. Not even once. If he blamed anyone, it was himself. _Hi_s mind was too weak and he let it be controlled, just like he h with IT.

He had an idea, though.

USED MY MAGIC WRONG WAY

He wrote and observed with concealed satisfaction the look of astonishment on the youth's face. It was simple**: **humans blamed the things that happen on the two things, magic or gods. Lot of times on both.

"I _knew_ that you must be able to use magic!" Hiccup exclaimed, patting the dragon's head," Are all dragons able to do...magic?" he gasped, a pure childish excitement on his face.

The dragon had to try hard not to let a sarcastic snort betray him.

ONLY TRAINED DO MAGIC

"Of course! Only the trained...is your-your fire magical?" he asked, approaching Toothless closely, grinning madly.

YES

Toothless ear-antennas fell as Hiccup's big-toothed grin widened and his eyes glistened. It did not bode well about the youth's mental health.

"Yes! I knew it-I knew it! _That's_ why your fire was able to run from me and not hurt me... right?" the boy approached yet closer, breathing into the scaled muzzle, misting the scales between the eyes.

Toothless had to squint to see Hiccup's face**, ** and the Fury strongly pondered about running away while shooting a few blasts as a parting shot. He added to his ever-growing mental list that obsessive human pups were extremely annoying.

The dragon nodded eagerly, only to be released.

That did not happen as the assault of questions rained.

"Can you become invisible?" Hiccup asked in a high-pitched voice, mouth opened in ecstatic excitation, gripping the sides of the dragon's head.

Toothless shook his head quickly.

"Can you change your shape and become a human?" the boy questioned.

Toothless snorted and shook his head one more time. Human imagination was indeed strange and creepy sometimes**!**

"Are you the offspring of Lightning and Death itself?"

Again, the draconic head shook.

"Do you have a cave filled with gold and you capture those...how they are called," Hiccup snapped his fingers twice," Virgins! Yes!" he shouted.

WHAT VIRGIN?

"Oh..that? Just you know, the person that did not have...you know! Mate before," he said**, ** as if it was something obvious and released the scaled head. Looking at the oblivious stare Toothless was giving him, he explained, trying not to let his face get too red.

Toothless seemingly understood and smirked.

GOLD NO VIRGIN YES

"R-really?" Hiccup said unsurely.

YOU VIRGIN YES?

The youth scowled," I am laughing sooo much now!" he said, strangely not laughing," So**, ** I was captured by a merciless Night Fury? Oh woe is me!"

Why a dragon would need to hunt for virgins was a mystery for him**, ** and he blamed it on human imagination.

HOW YOUR DRAGON TRAINING

The snarky Fury asked,again**, ** to focus on more crucial matters than questions about his past.

Hiccup picked up the notebook and opened it without haste, opening on a few small Nadder drawings, each of the sketches picturing the agile dragon in attacking position or shooting a quill from its tail. Next to them was a whole page filled with dots and arrows.

"Toothless, are other dragons able to use magic as well?" the boy asked, knowing the answer. Toothless nodded slowly, his slitted eye studying the pages," Are all dragons able to do it?"he asked, smoothing the Nadder's drawing with his finger.

NOT MANY DO MAGIC

"I see," Hiccup said with a small exhalation.

The ebony dragon had problems identifying what emotions motivated the youth to ask about it.

Toothless narrowed his eyes**;** those questions had something worrisome in them. Were enslaved dragons able to use mind-control on their bodies? It could not be**, ** as IT made sure every dragon would not be able to practice it. It had been the turning point of the nest's downfall, forcing them into being only mindless creatures.

Toothless huffed in annoyance. A dragon who was not mind-trained was as primitive as any other animal. Dangerous, vicious and yet easy to kill.

Hiccup should be fine to continue his training**; **to use the proper battle techniques it required years upon years of hard work. The training humans would not have any problem with killing the slave-dragons.

The contemplative Fury decided to tell Scalgertar the truth.

WE STRONGER FASTER BETTER IN BATTLE

The youth looked at what the dragon wrote and swiped his hand through his hair," Is there any way to know that the dragon is using magic to fight?" he asked.

Toothless quickly swiped the earth with his right paw.

WHY YOU ASK THIS?

YOU MEET MIND TRAIN DRAGON?

"Mind train?" Hiccup asked, not understanding**,** and the Fury quickly corrected it to the words to "magic" with a growl. He was asking with such intensity that seemed so much like anger that it made the boy rush his explanation.

"No-no Toothless! I just want to know more about it. I only want to be prepared...all right?" he breathed out quickly.

The agitated dragon stared for a moment more as if to seek any hint that would help him understand Hiccup's emotions and reasons. Finally, he calmed himself enough to answer.

EYES

He wrote plainly.

"Eyes?" the clever teen read and thought," Like the gaze that scared me the day you made that crash landing?" he exploded suddenly with eyes opened wide," Of course!" he said in comprehension.

Toothless did not like that topic a bit. Boring his claw as deep into the ground as never before he wrote quickly.

**NEVER BATTLE MAGIC DRAGON! **

"Then what should I do?" Hiccup asked quietly, feeling the dread and authentic fear from his friend.

The Fury let out a very tired breath before thinking for a long time and then writing the response.

NOTHING HICCUP

YOU RUN

* * *

The boy felt great after two more nights with the dragon, each in which he slept while Toothless 'healed' him. He was not worried about his companion's health so much anymore**,** and it released a lot of stress from his shoulders.

One of the negative effects of it was a lessening in Hiccup's self-confidence. Having somebody you care about in peril certainly helped with losing all your hesitation and shyness and showing your serious and cold self, but it was not as gleeful after his personality fell back to what it had been before the incident with Toothless.

Before he knew it, Hiccup was again his goofy, sarcastic wobbly-stumbling self.

That included his reactions when he thought about that cold motivational speech to Snotlout and Tuffnut and how he had talked to Astrid.

At even the briefest thought of _that_**,** he screamed into his hands in frustration and had a strong desire to hit his head with the heaviest thing possible until he passed out.

Because of that Toothless would not leave his side to do anything until Hiccup was disarmed of every sharp and heavy object and was treated with a few tail-slaps to insure proper behaviour.

Right now, Hiccup could not think about the boldness of his speech to Astrid as his whole unit was now sprawled across the Kill Ring, more or less injured… and the vicious, blonde girl was running ahead with a loud, rallying cry.

He himself could only hear a high-pitch noise in his ears and an urge to vomit. That Nadder's recent tail-slap was nowhere near as gentle as Toothless's.

He wanted to yell to Astrid to stop, watching the firewall around them and a non-human figure standing proudly**,** waiting patiently for the girl with a mad, dragon grin.

The Nadder lowered its body and raised its tail.

"Astrid, don't**!**" Hiccup shouted, too slowly**,** and too late.

The dragon's pupils were almost invisible on the toxic yellow iris**,** and the air seemed to vibrate for the boy around its body.

He realized, now, that the Nadder was one of those dragons Toothless had warned him about- one who definitely could- and would- use its magic.

* * *

_Silly story time_**_._**_ Today I decided to spoof the same thing as usual and...well you will see.  
_

"Toothless!" a bored voice called**,** distracting the dragon**.**

"What?" the Fury barked irritated, "You made me miss a step- no …more …. perfect score!" he yelled in frustration. He smacked the dancing mat he stood on with his tail.

"DO you comprehend what you've done?" Toothless now yelled right into Hiccup's face, making his hair blow back.

The boy looked indifferently from his semi-sitting position on the red, comfy couch.

"I like your new breath freshener," Hiccup said nonchalantly.

"Thanks!," the Fury smiled in appreciation and then his muzzle darkened," But THAT'S not the point!" he roared again.

"On the other hand the 'Sea Smooch' scent was better..." the young man chimed in, scratching at the light stubble on his chin.

Toothless breathed deeply, gaping with red eyes and bared fangs.

"I 've been attempting this dance-song 57 times! You know how hard it is to keep the tempo when you need to take care of four legs, left and right wings _and _a tail? No! My perfect score... why?" he howled in utter dolour, raising his head up dramatically.

"Is it true that all Night Furies are male, and they can only produce male offspring and only with a male human?" Hiccup asked.

Toothless felt something in him breaking. With a mad roar**,** he pushed the sofa and its occupant with one paw-swing. The couch stopped front of the large TV, and Toothless pressed the button on his PRP to turn the game off.

"Here!" he yelled and threw a small bag into the young man's face with his tail.

"What is that?" Hiccup asked, opening the plastic bag and taking out a few DVD's," _Hot Sc8les 4 U_?, " _Scorching Night Touch 5_?", "_The Nadder's B Spot_", "_Blonde Beauties 2_"? he looked at Toothless with a raised eyebrow," You rent this kind of movie every week**,** but the last one is about humans... I did not know you were into…. that," he said switching to his ironic tone.

"Oh**,** _this _one?" Toothless said, completely unperturbed, licking his nose," This one is for you**,** my friend. I thought you might want to relax while Astrid is away. Only four more weeks!" he sang cheerfully, rolling the dancing mat up with his paws.

"I don't need that!" Hiccup said loudly with pride, while secretly stashing the video behind the sofa's pillow," And I _won't _watch those dragon...things with you! I watched a few already**,** and I felt my childhood evacuating my brain! In a fleeing herd!" he moaned.

"I like company when watching these," the dragon said defensively," And, today you will squeal in a different tone when you will see what I got for you**!**" he said with a smirk, and plopped onto the floor in front of the human.

With a sigh Hiccup took out the last DVD from the bag. This one featured a young looking male on the cover**,** smiling unsurely.

"_Fangirl Education? How Does Fan Fiction Knowledge Relate to the Real World_?" he read the title loudly and turned the cover over to read the back," 'Have you ever wondered how Night Furies reproduce? Not sure if their species can have only males? Then it is th-…' That's it**,** Toothless! The ultimate grail of fanfiction**:** Night Fury knowledge!" Hiccup exclaimed excitedly.

"So**,** will you watch the dragon porno movies with me later?" Toothless asked hopefully, as Hiccup stepped over him and rushed to the player, clicking with his prosthetic leg against the floor.

"Sure, sure!" Hiccup answered nonchalantly and closed the disk-pocket and returned to his seat," Move your wings down, bud!" he smacked the back membrane and pressed _Play_ on the remote control.

The same weird-looking guy from the cover appeared on the screen, wearing a white laboratory coat and a same unsure smile- as if he was not used to smiling.

"Hello, my name is Fang and-," he said in a poorly faked British accent.

"What a weird name" Hiccup commented**,** munching a potato crisp.

"Creep," Toothless added**,** eating his portion of dried fish snacks.

" This video is dedicated to you, fangirls! So prepare your pens! Here we start!," the young scientist harrumphed and took a small wooden stool from outside the screen frame, sat on it and took out a small piece of paper from his pocket.

" Question number one: Can love make everything possible? I read about male Furies and how they love their male human so much they magically become male humans themselves! And then they love**,** and it is OMG GOSH SO FLUFFY... giggle...giggle and giggle," the guy took a deep breath and rubbed his head and muttered**, **very clearly" I can't answer this while I am sober,".

He left the screen view and came back with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass, already full. He drunk the liquid, grimaced and huffed.

He read the question again and swung his head," Co to ma być? Co to za pytania w ogóle są? Za mało mi płacą za tą robotę,"he sighed and after a moment of contemplation poured another shot and drunk it quickly.

"Dear..._whoeveryouare_. No, love is only a biochemical reaction in your brain that lasts usually around two years and**,** after that**,** it depends on your determination and how well developed the part of your brain that is responsible for the monogamy is. Love is a strong motivator if you want to change and helps you achieve your goals**,** and I agree that love makes a lot of things possible, but not everything. So, no love doesn't make _everything_ possible," He said with a wide grin.

After a moment of pause he added," You can go now cry to your parents… and remember!" he winked," It's all their fault!"

"Next question!" he took out another small paper, not forgetting to drink another shot," 'Is it true that Night FurYS (spelled that way) are only males and can only have male babies with male humans... Guaaah so cute...!' " he read without any tone.

He took a deep breath. Another drink followed.

" To answer this question, let's ask my dragon, the female Night Fury! Kropka!" he yelled to the side and**,** after a moment, there came the sound of claws clicking against the floor**,** and a Night Fury entered with confused look on her muzzle.

Toothless's ears immediately perked up, but Hiccup kicked his head immediately with his prosthetic leg.

"What is it?" Kropka asked in a sultry alto voice, but her eyes narrowed as she saw the bottle in the man's hand.

"Oh, nothing! I just wanted you to come here to...admire your incomparable beauty," the biologist said smoothly.

The dragoness did not seem to be flattered. With two blows of her paw**,** the bottle and the shot glass flew from the guy's hands and**,** after a moment**,** she caught them skilfully with her tail in one sweep. She lurked over the man," No! Drinking!" she hissed threateningly and**,** after a disdaining huff, she left.

Toothless sighed," Imma in luv!"

It earned him another kick.

"Quiet, Toothless!" Hiccup said in mild annoyance.

"I hope that answers your question!" the lab-coated man said happily and took out another piece of paper, "' Hello! Since so many relationships involve true love (that being yaoi love with two males who then give birth to son). Does this mean that one day there will be no more females left? Oh, I hope so! I mean**,** I am a girl and all, but this slash love is just so pure and good and I really wish we could live in a world that would be so full of happy love and no women'," he read.

With a smile he turned to the wall and hit his head a few times against it, then he turned to the camera,

" Oh, I'm sorry. It helps me clear my head...a lot," his face twitched. He took out a pocket-flask from the inside pocket of his lab coat and took a heavy gulp.

"First of all, my dear authors. The science of biology strongly shows that male pregnancy is not possible. Why**,** you ask? You see**,** a male's sperm is not capable of creating a new life out of its genetic material. A female's egg cells, however, can. Almost every living organism is created out of an egg cell and never from sperm. Sperm is used as an activator for the egg cell to multiply and is carrying genetic material to implement into the new organism that is created," he took another sip," For more information about it simply search in the web for articles about biology, cell reproduction, and how a new life is created. It's an amazing process, and better than any fictitious method. Also I sense a certain dichotomy in your thinking. If there were only males on this world you, most definitely, would not exist," he sighed and looked to his side.

"How many brain cells did that poor guy lose while filming this movie? What do you think**,** Hiccup?" Toothless asked, turning his head to his friend, grinning.

"Hush up!" Hiccup said with a hand wave.

Fang the Biologist turned to the camera again, and an angelic smile crept onto his face.

"I also recommend trying to talk to your parents and teachers more about this crazy thing we call life. Fanfiction is a great fantasy world, but it's still only a fantasy. And try reading a few published novels for some variety. There are some great authors out there." he added, smiling.

"Another question," he said loudly. " Paper out, vodka in… lesshee… 'I think, therefore I am so...?' " he looked at the paper from both sides," Okay, I guess _that_ person's not going to finish the sentence," he threw the paper on the floor.

"Another question...," he said tiredly, wobbling unsteadily on the stool," Chrzanić to!," he exploded**,** and threw away all of the papers sloppily from his pockets to the ground.

"What's the point?" he said directly into the camera, his voice heavy," Those stories are not created to present any artistic or new approach to the matter, but as some way to push the envelope and get noticed by your peers!" he said and rubbed his temples," I won't ramble about why people want to create it. I only have one bit of advice, and it is true to everything. Just use common sense when writing your stories and**,** if you do not understand something, ask… or look it up."

"I hate moralising videos," Toothless murmured.

Fang smiled widely," And I know that _you,_ the authors of such stories provide me with such laughs and joy. Thank you for making the world the happier place and thank you, dear viewer for watching. Dowidzenia!" he saluted and dropped from the chair backwards with a silly-looking smile grimace, loudly thudding on the ground.

After a few moments of silence, Kropka walked over Fang and with a sigh, she grabbed the man by his ankle with her tail and started dragging his body away.

"When you will stop trying to change the world and just get a girlfriend?" she said crisply, before the screen turned all blue and the video finished.

Toothless scratched his neck with his hind leg," I think the best part of that movie was that dragoness," he said, curling his lip into a smirk.

He looked at the auburn-haired young man who was silent, only looking at the wall, deep in thought.

The dragon gently patted Hiccup's head with his tail.

"No use thinking about such things. They only deserve to be written in some story that would not make any sense," he said, grinning.

"I s'pose," Hiccup answered, making himself more comfortable on the couth.

Toothless eye glistened dangerously," _Hot Sc8les_ or _B Spot_?" he suggested.

Hiccup groaned," Goodbye, sweet innocent memories! I shall miss you!"

"_B spot_, it is!" Toothless said gleefully.

Hiccup really wished to have a wall by his side to bash his head against.

* * *

AN: Same request. Tell me your opinions and critique is welcome. Oh, my head. I shouldn't have drunk so much. 'Till next time!

Kropka... water, please!


	23. New Perspectives

AN: Thank you to **Fjord Mustang** for beta-reading. I am dissapointed how few people comment her stories. If you haven't read them yet. Go and read them.

* * *

_A few moments before the fight with the Nadder._

"This is th' last fight with a dragon as a team fo' ya," Gobber brightly said to the teens, standing in the circle with them, near the built maze," Th' Nadder can b' fast**, **so better t' defeat it quickly... it tends to get worse as th' time passes," he added in a grimmer tone.

"What do you mean, 'get worse'?" Snotlout asked first, furrowing his brow.

"Nothin' yer pretty head should think 'bout now. Concentrate on th' fight," the hefty trainer said, looking into each of the younglings' eyes, "Good luck!" he exclaimed cheerfully, leaving the young warriors . The entrance gate closed behind him.

Every one of them turned immediately to Hiccup, who tried to look composed, correcting the helmet on his head.

"Right," he uttered, clearing his throat, "The plan remains the same as the one we practised yesterday. Um... that's all?" he finished unsurely, seeing everybody look at him.

Fishlegs leaned to him quickly, whispering to him, a hand covering his lips, "Rule number fifty one of how to be a good leader: always remember to have a grand speech to motivate your soldiers," he stood straight again and nodded.

Hiccup smiled sheepishly. Apparently, this was what the others wanted. Excluding Astrid, of course, who treated him as if he did not exist. Even Snotlout looked interested**, **and that was rare.

"Epic speech...epic speech," Hiccup muttered to himself, "I know! Let's the fight be all nice and...gory! Come on maties**, **let us taste th' glory!" he said in a pretended harsh voice with his finger raised up. Everybody, excluding Astrid, of course, had that look on their face as they tried not to laugh.

"What?" Hiccup asked abruptly and then slapped his head, "I forgot... Come one maties,let us taste th' glory... Harrrr!" he said and everybody burst into loud laughter, "That was one of the Grim the Ghastly's sayings! It's supposed to be very grand and...epic!" Hiccup defended, getting a red face.

This time even Astrid had a smile on her face, but she concealed it by looking away and leaning down to swipe off the dust from her skirt.

"Yes...very 'grand'!" Ruffnut croaked through tears.

"And, epic!" her brother added, leaning on Snotlout's shoulder.

Hiccup folded his arms on his chest with a blank expression, waiting for the mirth to subside. He did not need to wait for long.

Fishlegs whispered to him again**, **"Excellent idea! Relaxing people by making yourself look like a goof," he congratulated with a broad smile.

The scrawny boy only sighed and straightened his posture, taking off the bow from where he held it against his chest and shifting it to his right hand. The group silenced and looked attentively at him.

"We'll start across from the cage. Remember to memorise the maze and do not let the dragon trap you. Do not hesitate to shout for help," he said gravely.

"You are repeating yourself," Tuffnut reminded.

"All right...Let's go, team!" Hiccup shouted and raised his fist to signal readiness. The lever was released and the chain rattled as the cage door swung open, loudly thrashing against the wall.

Hiccup immediately ran into the maze, bow at the ready**, **Fishlegs and Snotlout by his side. They separated into two groups,trying to lure the spiked creature towards the bony archer.

Hiccup stopped and whistled loudly once . The same whistle answered him from across the stage.

That was the first thing the boy noticed,and did not like it. It was much too quiet. The Nadder used to have pleasure in making itself known with obnoxious squawking, enjoying the fight.

The small spectator crowd shouted in surprise, looking at something the teens could not see from inside the labyrinth. However, they did notice a heavy, black smoke that started floating from the maze's edges, by the Ring's borders.

"What's that? Snotlout asked, looking down at the boy. He was shielding Hiccup**, ** along with Fishlegs, standing at the other side of the mazelooking at the corridor. He was also surveying above**, **as Hiccup had often said that the Nadder could also attack from the top of the wooden wall.

"Astrid, how is your end?" the young archer yelled, having bad feelings.

"No dragon so far! ...Wait!" she shouted back**, **and the last message was sudden as if she had heard something. Everything became so silent that Hiccup was afraid to move.

"I swear I just heard something behind us!" the clearly heard voice of Tuffnut sounded. It did not sound confident.

_Why would a dragon not show itself, and then only start a fire instead of running after us_? Hiccup pondered anxiously. There must have been a reason. He had long ago rejected the theory that this Nadder might be a simple-minded dragon. No simple creature would act like this dragon did.

So far, what did he know? This dragon was fast, agile and seemed to treat a battle like it was entertainment. Such behaviour pointed either to an unstable mentality**, **a daredevil attitude or to great battle experience.

_Think like a dragon, Hiccup_! he thought, biting his lip nervously. He looked at the dark smoke. It was rising high, concealing the view from the spectators' area.

"Oh, gods," he whispered and sprinted to the nearest turn to see the other part of the ring. The smoke was all around the maze now.

"Astrid, run to the centre, now!" Hiccup screamed at the top of his lungs, running to the middle of the construct.

"Coming!" the ferocious female warrior answered.

"What is going on?" Snotlout asked, standing next to Hiccup, his voice full of tension.

"It wants to-," scrawny warrior started, but his words were cut short.

"It's here**, **now!" Ruffnut hollered and Hiccup's group heard a loud roar… and then a sharp yell of pain.

A human yell.

"Hang in there!" Hiccup cried out, fear almost overwhelming his senses. He did not want to lose anyone in this training. His body turned automatically and**, **after two turns**, **he saw the second group now in front of them.

Relief filled him. All three of them were still standing, Astrid vigilantly observing the surroundings and Ruffnut, leaning on her brother, pale as death and moaning in pain.

"What happened?" the auburn-haired teen queried, looking at Ruffnut.

Ruffnut huffed, "Bastard showed itself out of nowhere. We..._arrghh!_ ...avoided its fire and before we were able to attack**, **it disappeared and then shot its quills through the walls. One of them hit me in the calf," she said with difficulty.

Hiccup then looked at the leg. From the right trouser at the calf level, a small, bony quill stuck out.

"Put her by the wall. Shields at the ready! Give me the circle formation! I'll try to remove the projectile," the boy immediately ordered. He was about to pull out his dagger to cut the trousers when Fishlegs stopped him.

"You can't do that with this injury. A Nadders' quills have hooks at the top. Move the quill**, **and it will only get deeper. We need get her to the healer's," the hefty youth said confidently.

"Thanks Fish, I forgot about that," Hiccup said, stringing the bow again, "Ruff, can you walk?" he queried gently.

The girl twin's face was full of pain, sweat clearly visible on her pale skin, "Sorry dear, but if I could I would be running away already," she answered as calmly as she could.

Hiccup quickly evaluated all the possibilities.

"Listen carefully, team, here is what is going on," he said quickly. All the faces turned to him with attention. "The fire and smoke cut us off from the exit and from the view of the others. It's getting bigger and if we won't do something soon**, **we will be burned alive," he said, grinding his teeth in desperation.

He had spoken about it as if the fire had started by accident**, **and this is how the other teens might have seen it. However, Hiccup knew it was far away from being an accident. The dragon had consciously raised the fire to cut their escape and to delay help from coming. Hiccup would have simply shouted for help if he had not known that this would bring dishonour to him and most importantly, to the others.

This was down to the wire, now. Either all the Viking teens were going to go down, or the Nadder was.

He already smelled the familiar scent of burning wood. As he had said, they needed to do something… fast. The fire was getting closer**, **and the dragon could shoot at them through the walls. It was using them to its advantage.

That was it, the walls!

"Fishlegs, Snotlout, knock over the maze-wall!" Hiccup called**, **pointing at the wall in front of them. Without discussion, the boys leaned their bodies against the wood and pounded it strongly. It wobbled unsteadily and after more use of force, it started falling.

"Keep in formation!" Hiccup shouted through the deafening clatter of the crashing wood. He coughed, covering his mouth with his sleeve. The fire was getting nearer,and they could smell the heavy smoke billowing behind them.

His helpers returned to the circle, facing outside and attentively observing the space, protecting Ruffnut**, **who leaned on her brother inside the circle.

Hiccup hid behind Fishlegs' back and skilfully strung his laminate. He would use the first chance he got to fire off a shot.

First, they would defeat the dragon and then find a way to escape. Or try to find a safe spot in the middle of this inferno.

The wall fragments continued falling, one after the other, flatly hitting the ground or its neighbouring maze-piece.

Most of the training course had already fallen down, revealing the arena. This was another factor Hiccup counted on to spot the dragon and be able to find an exit sooner.

They could already see**, **in terror**, **that the whole outside ring of the structure had detached from the inner part and continued standing and burning in a lovely orange, strong and tall flame.

Hiccup heard people shouting from outside the smoke-bulwark. They sounded more disappointed about not being able to see the show than worried about the young warriors trapped inside.

Almost all of the maze-segments went down, except for a few.

Hiccup felt a consuming fear and a tiny bit of understanding of the dragon. With a calm face,he fully struck the bow and aimed his sneeze-inducing arrow at the wall in the middle.

"Hiccup?" Fishlegs asked nervously, glancing aside at his friend.

"It's in there!" Hiccup said loudly, before the last fragment fell over.

Automatically, Fishlegs, Snotlout and Astrid ran and kneeled in front of the place their leader was aiming at. The twins stood**, **Tuffnut trying to shield his sister while holding her upright with the other arm.

"Go help them!" Ruffnut said sharply and pushed her sibling to the ground. They looked at each other only for a moment. Tuffnut looked back with an uncertain look on his face as if considering to ignore her request and to continue standing by her side.

It took him only a split moment to make his decision.

With an annoyed yell, he got up and placed himself in the line with the other trainees, raising his double-edged spear at his head level, ready to throw it.

Ruffnut nodded firmly and rapidly span her weapon, boring the tip into the floor, leaning on it.

As Hiccup expected, the last labyrinth-piece dropped. Behind it was the Nadder**, **fanning the fire with its wings and acting like a child caught red-handed at doing something naughty. The boy also expected that.

This cursed lizard thought it was funny**! **

As the dragon bared its teeth and shaped its muzzle into a poor caricature of a human's bemused smile, the arrow was already in front of it.

Hiccup would not wait for the cheesy show-off to finish its act**, **and he did not act as disoriented as the rest of the group. He shot the arrow off.

The arrow simply disappeared just as it reached the beast's amused snout. This what was Hiccup's eyes managed to register and when his brain caught on, he figured that the pine-wood missile had**, **in reality,been deflected by the wing that swung down with a speed unable to be captured by human eyesight.

The teens finally caught on the glimpse of what happened. At the same time, the powerful wave of the wind caused by the wing movement violently struck them.

Although the teens' shields withheld the air-strike, Hiccup felt his body leave the ground**, **and he fell backwards, hitting the fallen wall edge with his back, He barely sensed the bottom's edge painfully stabbing his back while a shiver of perfect horror dominated him.

The blast ended quickly**, **and Hiccup could not tell exactly what followed. He could discern Ruffnut's yell of pain as she stepped on her wounded leg when she lost her balance.

Everything seemed to slow down, the sounds were maimed**, ** and Hiccup's breathing sounded abnormally loud.

A primal part of him just wanted to slink out of that place. He could have done that. He craved for nothing more, if only his legs could move! If only _anything _in his body could move! Instead he found himself staring into the Nadder's eyes. He could not see the pupil, everything there had melted into the yellow iris. The eye looked at everything and expressed nothing.

This was not just the blinding fear that Hiccup felt sometimes around Toothless. Hiccup could deal with fear, but not with the overwhelming hatred he felt from this dragon, hatred biting into his body and paralysing his mind.

The Nadder grinned with its fangs, ostensibly showing enjoyment, yet the downed youth could feel the immobilising detest, rendering one simple and absolute truth.

They were all going to die.

Somebody grabbed him and shook him hard . A sharp and burning pain on his cheek woke him up from that nightmarish trance,and he saw Astrid above him with her hand raised after slapping him in the face, her face hard and composed.

"Thanks," Hiccup uttered, getting up, his legs shaking.

Snotlout sped on the right side in a small curve, while, on the left, Fishlegs was attempting to encircle the awaiting beast.

Tuffnut was in the middle**, **and the javelin he threw flew straight into the Nadder's chest.

Thanks to their weapons practice work and excellent timing, Fishlegs and Snotlout were already striking with their hammer and sword. Both of them swung their weapons with their full force**, **aiming to kill. It was impossible for the dragon to avoid three hits at the same time, at least one blow _had_ to meet the target.

The dragon evaded all of them.

How, none could tell at first. What was certain was that Fishlegs and Snotlout swung, and that their bodies limply followed the force to crash onto the ground, unmoving.

Only then did Hiccup alone notice the holes into the maze walls that were scattered on the ground. Holes that were made by the dragon's legs as it ran. Ran?

It was not a movement that they had seen**;** it was as if the creature had suddenly appeared in the other place.

"You bastard!" Tuffnut bellowed, his eyes furious. Before anyone was able to stop him, he ran to the blue dragon**, **bearing only his shield. The fire burned brightly behind the Nadder's body, nothing hid that it would vanquish another fruitless endeavour to stop it.

Tuffnut held the round buckler in both hands in ruthless rage, slamming the item down onto the hated beast's head. The dragon jumped above the furious youth in a blurring roll. Out of a blue whirl**, **the tail lashed, smacking the hitter's neck.

Tuffnut made a few clumsy steps**, **and then he stopped. His eyes rolled upwards in their sockets and he dropped forward onto the toppled wood debris.

The Nadder landed gracefully with outstretched wings and bent posture as the human body behind him fell to the floor. The muscles on the dragon's leg constricted, showing themselves in full detail suddenly,and Hiccup could almost hear them flexing fiercely.

The youthful leader was stringing another arrow against the bowstring, helplessly believing he might shoot before the Nadder got closer.

The ground in front of him suddenly exploded with a terrifying force as the dragon released the force from his legs and it appeared in front of Hiccup, looking down at him as something unworthy of its attention.

The dragon kicked Ruffnut squarely in the abdomen, sending her immediately to the ground.

The left wing outstretched in a lightning motion at Astrid, attacking from the side. Her axe flew from her grasp**, **and she was cast back. Every one of these actions looked lazy, done without much energy and care as if the dragon was chasing away an insignificant group of flies, not bloodthirsty humans craving for it to be decapitated.

Even as it swung its tail, swirling in place, its movements appeared slow and choppy.

Hiccup, at the last moment,leaned his head to the side, on the hunch that the beast would aim at his neck. The careless and lazy swung of the tail hammered against his helmet, making a small dent into the surface, and easily forced his body into rolling backwards.

The bow was torn from his hand and**, **after a few turns**, **Hiccup stopped revolving. Using his elbow as a support for his aching body, he lifted his head only to see Astrid charging again at the Nadder.

His head ringing with a high-pitched sound, sensing a raising urge to vomit from his head-splitting headache, he yelled at her with an outstretched hand.

"Astrid, _**don't**_!"

The dragon's all-seeing eyes seemed to turn to him for a split second as its tail rose and a single quill stood up like a dagger.

Astrid shouted loudly as the tail slashed down and nothing happened. ...Until the girl's shield split and fell to the ground along with the cut shaft of her weapon.

She looked dumbfounded as her shirt, along with the bandages covering them was also split open and revealed the white skin beneath, along with small but well-formed girlish breasts.

Hiccup saw it all, which was more than he had ever dreamt of seeing of Astrid, and his mind illogically stopped functioning to admire the view.

With a feminine squeal, the girl covered herself with both hands crossed on her chest. A cruel-sounding, low draconic laugh and the fire-wall surrounded the two teens. It stripped the scene of all sensuality Hiccup could have felt and made it look ugly and absolutely humiliating.

The boy, stood up shakily, all body flaring in pain, clenching his teeth.

"Get away from her!" he hissed loudly, glaring with what he hoped was bravery.

His brave words had no covering in his ability, nor he had any hope of winning. He only wanted to do something. If he could help it**, **he would not have to face this creature, too powerful for any man to measure up against.

The Nadder did act as if not hearing his desperate cry.

It looked down at the defenceless and humiliated girl who glared fiercely back, one hand searching for the broken weapon by her side and the other clutching the pieces of garment together.

The self-amused look was no longer present on the beast's muzzle. Hiccup saw the dragon stop and think, as if considering something deeply. Without changing its expression the armoured body twisted**, **and the wing's edge struck Astrid's neck. With a look of disbelieving shock, her head was thrown back in a strong curve and the half-naked girl dropped to the ground on her back, her hair strewn over her face.

Hiccup shouted incomprehensibly. He picked up the spear lying next to him and rushed at the enemy.

The dragon kept looking at Astrid,not bothering to notice the teen rushing at him with a battle cry.

With a murderous intent, Hiccup swung Ruffnut's spear at the dragon's side. It was shattered in midair before even getting close to the scaled skin. Hiccup could not see the weapon splinters revolving slowly around and the weapon's blade rotating shakily without any force behind it. He could not. However, the Nadder could.

The hard tail, much harder than Toothless's, twisted around Hiccup's neck and hoisted the youth up. Hiccup struggled, grasping at the strangling limb. All its spikes now lay flat on the tail; the intent was to strangle, not to impale- still just as deadly for the teen. Hiccup's throat rattled, trying to catch a breath. His hand grasped up into his vest and he took out the eel from there, raising it up to the dragon.

The Nadder's head then swung from Astrid to the boy. Solid yellow orbs looked at him without any expression, showing nothing Hiccup could relate to or identify as an emotion.

The tail tightened almost undetectably. Suddenly it was enough to cause the youth to drop the eel and scream hoarsely. The clawed foot swept the eel away and cast it into the fire. It was not given to Hiccup to express his pain for longer**,** as the tail throttled even more tightly and the teen succumbed into darkness.

* * *

The doors closed at last, letting almost no light inside except for the small crack in the stone, embracing the upper part of the arched threshold. After so many years the stone had gotten weaker and decided to crumble. It had slowly been decaying, silently perishing in its own way- as did everything else in the world. Eventually.

When had that fragment fallen off? He remembered it, of course, he remembered everything.

Two thousand eight hundred seventeen. That was how many times the light disappeared to appear again.

He looked at the stream of brightness dropping inside and listened to the shouts thundering outside his solitary space. In a way he enjoyed the closed environment, the quiet, for the most part. It was an atmosphere where he could have been alone with his fighting thoughts. Mostly alone, the way he liked it.

_**How was it?**_ A light, feminine voice in his head resounded quietly, asking routinely. It filled him with smooth tenderness and a guarded concern.

His body dropped down heavily and he turned to the wall, against the door, awaiting the first, familiar blow that came from when he over used his mental talents.

_Same as for the previous 287 years_, he thought after taking in a deeper breath, _nothing worth mentioning._

_**You seemed to enjoy yourself, albeit it was unnecessary to humiliate Astrid,**_ the same voice said in his mind . He put his azure wing over his eyes. They knew what those kids were called**,** and only a little intelligence was required to assign the proper title to the proper human.

The darkness he saw was absorbingly soothing. Soon, every bit of light and shred of sound would cause him excruciating pain.

_I always repay those rotten objects for their "kindness"_, he responded calmly. The answer did not come straight away**,** and he did not elaborate his point. They had had too many conversations about it already until it became apparent both were adamant on these views.

A sudden dryness in his mouth foretold the shortly incoming anguish. He felt a probing in his mind and a sense of worry projecting his thoughts, so different from his own thoughts, absorbed as he was about his condition.

Hiccup will come, he assured even though no question had been asked, _he smells so much like a...what was that species name now?_ He asked, stretching his tail.

_**Night Fury,**_ the voice supplied**,** and he could tell from the sound of it that she was aware he really knew what that dragon species' name was.

_A matching name for such young pup,_ he thought with irony, _Hiccup is late to every fight_**,**_ and from the smell alone I can tell that he is already at the phase that includes lots of hugging and kissing..._ he snorted and his lip curled in a mocking smirk, quickly disappearing though, _Hiccup will come, but more importantly the young ones will start to doubt their knowledge and their own abilities to fight us. Hiccup will surely make an effort to use that opportunity to change their minds. A perfect set-up to have a few Darangur_ _ready to embrace the new world and follow your command. It is what you wanted after all. _

He finished his thought and breathed out calmly. Nobody disagreed with him. The cage was filled with the smell of the burned wood, reigning over every smell beside one.

He opened his wing and saw the dark boots of a man, standing right next to him. He looked up, seeing the frame now disappearing in the darkness. As there was no thing he could not see in the dark, the man was something he could not describe. Simply because he was something that no longer existed. He looked up, noticing two things. The man's white, dead eyes, filled with nothing but grey, opaque mattness gazing at him. And a rupture, burned edges of a hole in his chest that one could see right through.

_**You should not have used your body so extensively. You have not done it for so long...**_ the sensual, ear-appealing tone said gently. He quickly hid his head beneath his wing.

_I don't regret it_, he voiced his thought quickly, not losing the tranquil demeanour, _it was refreshing to feel the strength again as preposterously diminished as my mind-control has become. If your predictions are correct... we might need my mind control abilities again_, he said, sensing the pressure building up behind his eyeballs as if squeezing the nerves with rising force.

He had to get used to the pain without mind-suppression. It was the only way to get adjusted to it again.

_**I hope I am mistaken,**_ the voice spoke quietly.

He smirked at those words_, Alas, you have a naughty habit of being always right_, he thought humorously**, **and his strained muscles started to hurt agonisingly, making him tense.

He knew that other questions would fall shortly and he needed to be left to himself, _If you excuse me now, I have some suffering to do and I would prefer to do it by myself_, he pondered, stressing the importance of it. Soon, he would lose the ability to think coherently at all.

No words questioned his request, but the presence was still there, comforting him silently for longer than he could remember.

* * *

He sprung up from the bed he lay on as if waking up from a nightmare, gasping as if fighting for air.

He coughed loudly, tasting the disgusting stomach acid on his gullet. He still felt the tail, crushing his throat with tremendous forcefulness.

Hiccup looked at the side, grasping the clay cup filled with liquid on the small table. He gulped down the contents out of thirst and also to get rid of the taste of vomit in his mouth. He must have emptied his stomach after he had lost awareness of the world.

With water dripping on his chin from the cup, his eyes caught the white quilt covering his body and the look of the room he was in. He recognised it doubtlessly as one of the rooms in the healer's house, allotted as a chamber for the injured. The moistened with sweat and full of the smoke's odour, his green tunic stuck to his skin as he heaved.

He saw the row of four beds in front and people lying there. He jumped out from the covers and hurried to the first person, discerning Fishlegs' sleeping face. He was alive!

His eyes slid over the surroundings. Out of the two rows of four beds, two were occupied. On the left side of the hulky teen, Tuffnut slept, snoring restfully in his simple bed. However, there was nobody else.

With a heavy heart, Hiccup moved to the closed door. He had to know, he _had_ to be sure what happened to the others**,** no matter how harsh the truth would be.

The wooden frame opened before he reached the handle, and a plump**, **short figure stood there.

"Oh, bloody Freyja's cats! Ya gave me a fright here, young man!" Mouldful gasped, pressing her hand to her chest, almost dropping a small, wicker handbasket, filled with herbs.

Hiccup did not pay attention to any of the healer's reactions**; **he just grabbed her shoulders in desperation.

"Aghi-," he choked rather than said, feeling his throat burn in pain as he tried to speak.

Undaunted by his condition, he rushed to his bed and grabbed his vest, folded on a small stool, and took out his notebook.

Mouldful observed the youth in patient silence**;** the look on Hiccup's face made it unfeasible for her to stop him now.

The boy scribbled quickly on the pages and showed them, pointing at the words strongly with the pencil.

_Are they alive?_

That was the only mute question he asked, eyes wide from anticipation for the answer.

"Th' girls ar' in the room, next t' this. They ar' fine," the herbalist assured quickly.

Hiccup face brightened with relief, although he did not let the shoulders relax.

"Sno-t-ut," he attempted to utter and grabbed his throat, grimacing.

"He left already. Could not keep th' stubborn loggerhead in th' bed, said he needs t' train," she said reproachfully. Upon noticing Hiccup's posture relaxing after hearing the joyful news, she gestured the youth to the first, empty bed and asked him to sit.

Hiccup complied and**,** as the woman sat by him after putting the herb-basket to the floor**,** she started examining his neck.

"I've already examined rest of your body fo' further injuries...in private, naturally," she stated in an obvious-sounding voice. Hiccup did not respond, only blushed lightly. It was only normal for her to do that**,**and he should feel grateful for her work**;** however, when she said examine the body, she meant the whole body. Naturally.

"Move yer head t' the left, please...right...does it hurt?" Mouldful asked, looking at him.

Hiccup wrote the answer quickly in his notebook and flipped it over.

_A bit._

"Do ya taste any blood in yer mouth? Drooling too much? Lost the feeling of touch in any part of yer body?" the tending woman queried. Hiccup shook his head to all of the questions, "Pain when swallowing?"

Hiccup nodded. At this last part, the healer studied the back of his neck and took a look inside his mouth.

"Not bad...not bad," she muttered to herself, "Now...most important thing is if ya can talk. I would not encourage ya t' speak fo' now,as th' neck is swollen and it's causing th' pressure on yer muscles an' trachea, but if ya feel like ya can say a few words fo' me...," she suggested delicately**, **and Hiccup nodded jauntily.

With difficulty, he tried.

"Th-ank y-u," he breathed out in broken words, but clearly understandable.

"Very good!" the therapist beamed and got up from the bedding. Hiccup did the same," Last few words, before ya will go meet with th' girls. Fo' th' next few days eat only soups an' drink often this herbal brew I prepared fo' ya. It's boilin' in th' kettle right now. I think ya should drink some of it now...it is better t' have fresh breath when talkin' t' girls," she winked and walked away to hang the herbs on the window frame.

Hiccup blushed severely and rushed outside, covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his notebook with the other.

"How 'bout puttin' yer boots on as well?" Mouldful called after him.

* * *

"Enter, foolish mortal!" a menacing, dark voice, undoubtedly belonging to Ruffnut, sounded from behind the doors after Hiccup knocked three times. It took him a while to walk to the entrance while thinking to himself -as he could not talk- along with some self-face slapping for motivation.

Hesitant about his 'charming' smile, he had rather chosen his even more 'charming' neutral face. He was determined for this situation to be the last time he ever apologised to a girl for seeing her breasts.

He pushed the door and saw what he expected to see**:**Ruffnut and Astrid in beds. And Astrid's mother. Which he did not.

This added further tension to his stressed posture. He showed the page with the written words.

_May I come in?_

"Here is our saviour!" Ruffnut croaked from her bed with a wide grin. Hiccup smiled back and made a small step inside.

"Please, come in, Hiccup," Astrid's mother said invitingly, "Don't you know that standing over the threshold brings bad luck?"

Her warm words and a small smile broke the youth's lingering. He closed the door behind him and showed the prepared message that he could not talk and why.

After that introduction, Saldis left the room, saying that they might want to talk about the recent battle. Before she disappeared behind the door, she shook her left hand with Hiccup, as hard as a man would. The boy found this left-handed shake awkward at first. However, he remembered why she could not do otherwise. After a last respectful bow, there were only him and the girls in front of him.

He dared to look at Astrid then, who lay in a woollen, loose**,** blue long-sleeved shirt, her legs covered by the duvet. She did not have her headband on**,** and her hair was lose. This whole image of her**,** mingled with the previous memories,made Hiccup swallow. Her head was turned away, but as if sensing the impure thoughts of the boy, she pulled the cover up and pressed it to her chest.

The situation was saved by Ruffnut, who invited him to sit on the stool by the side of her bed. He was more than happy to do so. She had a similar to Astrid, yellow, saggy yellow long-sleeve shirt on herself and her long hair hung loosely on her side. She had a few scratches and cuts on her face and her palms, although it did not destroyed the cheerful image which Hiccup considered charming.

"Nice ring ya got there on your neck, looks stylish!" the twin girl said jokingly, peeling an apple with a small knife above the plate lying on her stomach with a few, a few skinless apples on it.

Hiccup smirked and handwrote the answer.

_Thank you. I did not have the charming opportunity to admire it myself, yet._

"Oh, take a mirror from the table," Ruffnut said negligently, pointing her thumb at the humble desk and packing an apple quarter into her mouth.

He took a small, polished, circular piece of bronze by its wooden handle from the table and looked at himself.

He did not look as bad as he thought he would. His face must have been washed after the fight. Without gazing at his face for too long, he looked at his neck. It was exactly as Ruffnut had described it. A purple ring across it. The only place without a purple stripe was the place beneath the larynx. One extravagant-looking, adorable bruise.

Toothless was so going to kill him.

_How are you? _He asked the girl. Ruffnut looked at the vellum and smiled.

"Never better, how about you?"

_Same. How is your leg?_

_"_Oh, that?" she said nonchalantly, taking off the cover from her right leg. On the calf was a snow-white dressing wrapped securely around it**, **and a small roll of material behind the heel was elevating it.

"I was quite lucky it turned out. The quill the Nadder used was one from the top of its tail. There was someone blabbering dragon facts about that...what was it already?," she mused.

_Smaller, without the hooks, easier to remove, faster recovery?_

Hiccup presented his hastily written suggestion with a hopeful face.

"Yes, that's it! Smart as usual, Hiccy!" Ruffnut said with a small laugh, "And before I forget," she spoke and leaned, and,after a moment,Hiccup felt her lips on the skin dangerously close to his own lips.

He jerked backwards, almost falling off his chair, his heartbeat rising as fast as the redness on his face.

"Thanks for saving my butt in the ring. And my brother's," Ruffnut said with what sounded like honesty and seriousness: a rare trait in her demeanour and**,** just like that, she took another apple from the table and started peeling it.

The shocked youth wobbled back up to a straight position and placed his hand on the place that had been kissed, still feeling the softness of the girl's lips there. He averted his eyes to Astrid, who quickly averted her own eyes from his sight.

Still embarrassed, he compiled the facts. Apparently, the others thought that he had defeated the dragon again. How was it possible? They had gotten the soundest thrashing in dragon fighting history! He quickly devised a plan to learn more. He rapidly scribbled in his page in small runes.

_Would you mind telling me again how I won, again? My memory is never working well when I am hungry. _

Ruffnut read the request and laughed freely, "Want to hear about your victory again, eh? Never mind, you deserve a bit of flattery," she said and, with a sharp movement, she squeezed an apple slice into his mouth.

"I know this from Gobber...he was here earlier. Anyway, he was the one to break into the Ring after it became quiet. Together,with a few dragon-handlers**,** he took us out from the fire. He told me he found the Nadder lying in front of you and our bodies near you. You had Snotlout's sword beneath your hand. Nobody knows how you did it... but you did it. Again. Care to share?" she asked casually, looking at him with wonder.

Hiccup's brain raced, trying to come up with an idea on how this could have happened. He had not done anything.

He had been strangulated**,** and the dragon had defeated him like a worthless piece of trash. He shivered at the memory. The Nadder could have killed him, quelled him like a nestling, crushed his spine in one lazy movement of its bony tail.

Yet, not only him, but all of them were alive. After meeting with such a force, none of them should have stayed alive**!** Why they were still breathing? He only had a bruised neck and would have to eat soups for a week. It seemed quite minor, considering the circumstances.

Tuffnut and Fishlegs were fine with only a few scratches and bruises. Snotlout had his right hand burned slightly as he fell near the fire, yet he and the others were found near him... there was only one conclusion.

The Nadder had done it. Staged it. All of it. But why? The only reason Hiccup could think of was for it to serve as a warning, but this dragon used to kill people. Lots of trainees had died before; Gobber had told them. So why were they all left with only a few cuts and bruises? Even in Ruffnut's case, the injury was not severe. The scale-quill could have severed the limb off the body. The power, the area that was injured... he just had to ask one more thing. Just to be sure.

He turned to the girl twin**,** who stared at him with increasing worry.

"You all right? You look pale," she said, putting her knife and the apple down and leaning towards him to hold his shoulders. He waved his hand quickly as Ruffnut was about to yell for help, getting paler herself.

_Sorry, I wasn't listening. I'm just hungry. Really._

He wrote hastily and showed the pencilled explanation to the long-haired blonde. Taking a shallow breath and seeing Ruffnut calm down enough to let him go, he continued writing.

_Ruff, there were no problems removing the quill and you will walk soon, right?_

He knew the answer, before the girl smiled carelessly and confirmed his worry.

He forced his lips to curl upwards as he pondered. He did not know the reasons that were driving the dragon and he would prefer not to know.

"Astrid, you're being awfully quiet there," Ruffnut threw out suddenly at her friend, together with a piece of apple which was caught skilfully by the female fruit-recipient.

"What do you want me to say?" the blue-eyed female warrior questioned, avoiding Hiccup's eyes like fire.

"Oh, nothing," Ruffnut said idly, putting her hands behind her head, "I thought of something you should say to Hiccup for starters?" she suggested**, **and Astrid winced, flicking her head and this time meeting the boy's intense eyes.

Hiccup's mistake. His eyes slid down before he managed to control the reflex.

"Like _what_, for example?" she asked in a dark tone, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, I am not sure if you have heard, but... since your big butt was saved by him**,** a few appreciative words might be in order," she said, appearing composed. However, her words were sounding more and more similar in tone to Astrid's as she continued talking.

Hiccup immediately waved his hands feverishly in denial. He stood up with both girls watching his actions and awaiting his input into the dispute. The pencil**,** however**,** hesitated above the blank page as he thought about what to write.

_It was not I who saved them_**, **he thought to himself_, it was actually the Nadder who had first tried to kill them using the dragon magic. And then, defeating them with ease__**; **__but also after making sure none of them was badly injured, the dragon placed their bodies in the centre of the ring as far away from the fire as possible. And shovelled the sword right under my hand! Yes, it made perfect sense! _

_Congratulations, Hiccup. You won a one way trip on a loony boat off the island and a few burning arrows as a farewell gift! To keep you warm on the way... _

In a few moments, he composed another thought, this time writing it on the vellum.

_I did not do anything worth thanking for. _

He presented it to his small audience. Ruffnut did not look convinced. She knit her lips into a tight line and looked away, admiring the log-wall. Hiccup took a step closer to Astrid's bed. It was a good moment to voice, or to write, his guilty thoughts. There was nothing he could come up with.

_I'm sorry._

That was all he wrote on a page. However**,** those words were big, shaped in strong sharp lines, unmistakeably conveying the author's feelings.

Astrid started playing with her hair nervously. She then felt guilty, seeing this note and the miserable face of Hiccup above the page. She did not deserve to be apologised to so much**,** and she hated it.

"It's all right...," she said in such a soft tone that it surprised even her, "It was not your fault...," the comforting words came out against her will. She was supposed to be angry at him for seeing her exposed. The abasement was very strong after the event. However, it was not directed at the boy.

He _had_ saved them, after all and now his reactions were only natural**;** he was a young male, and he was not known for the quality of his self-control.

She could not be mad at him for that. He was the first male who ever saw her... denuded. Although if it was Hiccup who saw her, of all people, there might actually be nothing to really worry about**,** now that she thought more about it, considering the person who had mentored Hiccup. Gobber had also seen her, but he had immediately covered her in his vest and personally carried her to the healer's, not telling a word to anyone.

She had always respected the older man a lot, and the way he handled this situation made her respect him even more. In so many ways, Hiccup was similar to his mentor. She was pretty sure the awkward-smiling boy would not go and boast about it, as almost every other Viking teenage youth would do, because he was... Hiccup.

She smiled back to the auburn-headed teen, who blushed as usual and**,** in studied and stiff movements, he offered Astrid the vellum-page bearing the words of apology. He then waved his hand to Ruffnut and ran away quickly, shutting the doors behind him.

Astrid raised the scroll, the meaningful message pricking her guarded heart.

"Oh, oh," Ruffnut groaned dramatically, "I am _so_ jealous now," she said with a tad of irritation.

"Of what?" Astrid asked absent-mindedly.

"Of that drawing of you naked on the other side," Ruffnut said earnestly, stuffing her mouth with a few fruit pieces in one go.

"That's not funny, Ruff," Astrid said in a monotone voice. She looked at her friend. The speed in which the food was disappearing suggested the truthfulness of the statement. With a sigh she turned the page, "See? Nothin-," her jaw dropped and then she pressed the page to her chest, her face getting red.

"Wha-how? Why?" she managed to utter haltingly. It was too shocking. She had seen many things and could tolerate and understand a lot, but _this_?

Ruffnut still looked peeved, not showing any emotions to Astrid's reaction. Looking again at the picture, her face's complexion reached a whole new level of crimson.

"Don't!" Ruffnut shouted with her hand outstretched from the bed, her face serious as the mortified girl was about to tear the page into tiny little shreds, burn them and feed the ashes to Hiccup.

"Don't destroy it!" her childhood-companion said again, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Why? It's..!" Astrid asked and groaned furiously, unable to find enough descriptive curses.

"Beautiful!" Ruffnut suggested and crossed her arms, "If any guy ever presented me with such drawing... eh," she sighed in disappointment.

"It's still a drawing of me naked under the waterfall!" Astrid exploded in a very high-pitched voice.

The envious girl twin rolled her eyes, "So what? Stop being a child! It's not a secret Hiccup is crazy about you**,** and knowing his legendary clumsiness, he forgot to check the other side as he wrote to you. So you are naked? Bit deal, guys think and talk about naked girls all the time. I live with one such idiot! That drawing is not vulgar, it is only meant to admire your...," she hesitated for a right word.

"Boobs?" Astrid suggested, flicking her head.

"Yes! I wanted to say beauty, but yes, boobs as well! Anyway, do whatever you want!" Ruffnut finished her surprisingly long rant and**,** after putting the plate with the apple-peels on the table, she covered her whole body with the comforter, lying back from the teen girl holding the vellum.

Astrid peeked furtively at this sketch of her, tried to look at it more neutrally. Indeed, she looked quite adorable on the picture.

She heard the ruckus from Ruffnut's bed**, **and she pressed the page to her chest again, not wanting to be seen looking at it.

"Your breasts are not as big as the ones on the picture!" the twin female said mischievously and turned away, leaving the dumbfounded Astrid to her thoughts. After a moment of silence, she carefully and as silently as possible folded the portrait, hiding it under her pillow.

She lay her head down, using the boarded ceiling as a target of her mindless observation to pass the time.

Something kept carving into her mind, the thought tinged with eeriness and simple fear. Her Viking side did not want to voice it, to never admit her feelings. She was extremely fortunate to have next to her somebody for whom pride would never obstruct the way to an honest conversation.

"Oy, blondie...," the down comforter in the bed next to her emitted gutturally.

"Yes, blondie?" Astrid said quietly, eyes attached to the rafters.

"In the ring...," Ruffnut said dully, from her little, confined space and hesitated with her choice of words, "When we fought that dragon...did you feel... were you sure... you were about to die?"

"I am ready to die with every battle," Astrid replied simply. There was another moment of silence and she waited expectantly for her injured soulmate to keep the thread of words alive. She needed that.

"We all are. But it was not a normal fear. It was as if I was sure that I was living my last moments. I could see myself dead,and no matter how I tried not to think about it, something was penetrating my mind and I couldn't stop seeing me and my brother slaughtered. Did you feel that, Astrid?" Ruffnut spoke with certain eagerness through her covers.

"Yes, I felt that," Astrid answered, her hand grabbing the sheet harder.

But further to all the spear-wielding girl spoke about, Astrid had also felt hatred and overwhelming sadness. And, of all these things she had felt, sadness was the strongest.

Despite all its mental power, she could visualise the Nadder as a sad being. Was she going insane?

Dragons acted on instinct, not with intelligence or feelings. It wanted to kill her**,**and she was plainly lucky its tail had missed, instead cutting through her weapon and shirt.

However, there were too many things she could not find an explanation for. The beast acted almost controlled and... cold. In the way it moved. In the feelings emanating from it.

_Dragons do not have feelings_! She scolded herself mentally. She might have gotten soft, with all her mood changes and her own recent storms of emotions.

The Nadder battle had been**,** overall**,** frightening. The self-confidence implanted into them by every Viking teaching had been suddenly put to test**,** and they had lost.

Perhaps they had underestimated the dragons?

Ruffnut snorted jeeringly, "It is such a great feeling when you're not the only one going crazy," she said**, **partially with humour and partially with relief.

"Yes...yes it is," Astrid said, closing her eyes and letting herself smile feebly.

* * *

_HELLO_

The page with the greeting scribbled across showed from behind the doorframe. Soon a deep chuckle was heard and a regular knocking sounded on the floor.

"Hiccup! Come in, lad!" Gobber said with unhidden glee as he saw the minuscule frame showing in the door.

_Just wanted to show my muscled self to you, before I head out to do more awesome stuff._

"How responsible of ya!" the aged blacksmith dinned**,** adding a few chortles, "But before ya leave me t' do yer more epic stuff... come, I have a surprise fo' ya!" he gestured with his pincer arm-stump prosthetic for him to approach.

Hiccup entered, slightly surprised.

"How is th'...,"Gobber pointed with his finger to neck.

_Good. Won't be able to talk for a while, though_**, **the youth replied quickly.

"Only good news! Brilliant!" the blonde-haired said with a smirk.

_Very funny._

Hiccup wrote and underlined the message with a fully straight face. He almost dropped the notebook however, as he caught what seemed to be a metal rod flying toward him. With a mental yelp of terror**,** he caught the head of the double-bladed axe, careful not to cut himself. As much as a clunky person with a sharp object could be.

"Here, Astrid's axe," Gobber stated carelessly, taking off the pincer contraption from his halved hand," Saldis was her' not so long ago an' asked me t' repair it. An' since yer here, ya can do it. I'm far too busy fo' th' simple handle change. I need t' go help clean th' mess in th' Ring," he added grumpily, taking his leave.

He added from the doorframe, directing his gaze at his apprentice, "Yer helmet an' bow were taken t' yer house. Mind th' forge an' don't cause anythin' t explode or die while I'm gone," he spoke gravely**, **though his eyes twinkled in mirth. Hiccup hit his chest with his right hand and raised it high in a formal salute.

Gobber came back in the late afternoon, his clothes soaked in smell of burned wood,and his hands smeared with soot.

The smithery was empty and the boy gone. His apron lay hung neatly as usual by the door and**,** on the table, the newly repaired axe was placed with a few coins next to it. The youth had paid for the metal had had used in the axe repair with his own funds.

As expected, Hiccup had used the best materials available. Taking the weapon to his hand, Gobber looked at the new handle, a blue cord covering half of it. Damascussteel was expensive, but worth its price. A bit heavy, but extremely durable. He swung the axe and changed its position as if blocking a left strike, and then answered with a lightning upward stroke.

He smiled in satisfaction, looking at the boy's accomplishment. Perfectly weighted. The shape of the previous grip ideally mimicked. And that did not include the blade sharpening and polishing,as it now glistened with golden reflections.

He put the blade back onto the desk and then sat on the anvil in front of the fireplace, massaging his knee. As he bent**,** he could feel the small piece of wood by his chest. It was something he had wanted to discuss with Hiccup.

He put his hand beneath the tunic and took out an arrow. The same missile the teen had used to defeat the Gronkle.

As he did before**,** he tapped his knee once with the arrow's sacked tip. Immediately, the red powder was released on his soot-marked trousers. He knew what was it and what it did.

He rolled the light-brown shaft between his fingers, reflecting deeply.

He formed his palm into a fist around the item as he brought it to his forehead and shut his eyelids in pensiveness.

He fought with himself for a long time, suppressing feelings that went against the Viking law.

Unable to reach a conclusion, he opened his eyes and let his first impulse be his guide.

Without delay, his left hand reached to the fire and dropped the arrow into the flames.

Gobber stood up and padded to the exit, clunking with his peg-leg.

As the door closed with a piercing, squeaking sound, the arrow-sack was burned and the flames shoot up as if alive, in a beautiful scarlet colour. Nobody was there to admire them.

* * *

_Good to see you are better._

Hiccup wrote this with a hopeful smile as he sat on a rock with lowered head.

No punishment had been imposed on him for the moment. However, it was clearly visible that this restraint was taking up all of Toothless's self-discipline as he crabbily and loudly paced back and forth, growling and crooning to himself with bared teeth and constricted pupils. Whatever the dragon was saying, it was not something the muted youth yearned to know.

The furiously furious Fury had overcome the first phase of roaring and blasting rocks into smithereens when he first saw what had happened to Hiccup. Now he only stopped from time to time near him, raising his wing as if to slap him, but always managing to stop himself from doing so.

_And your wing seems to work better!_

Hiccup presented the parchment with a consoling smile. He had tried to conceal his condition by wearing a lovely green scarf around his neck and had explained that he could not speak due to a very bad cold.

And he had practiced smiling in front of the polished shield. The only time he had trained his smiles that way was when he had practised the pick-up lines and charming faces he had planned to make to Astrid after killing his first dragon.

His cunning plan was cut short by Toothless's sharp claws. His magnificent scarf fell off**, **and it took just as long for the dragon to start growling as for him to drop the fish-basket and start running.

So, his examination proceeded with the usual steps.

Hold squirming boy in place; lick injury; growl; lick; snap teeth and growl and lick some more.

Hiccup let the dragon do whatever he pleased, not resisting anything.

His friend's movements were getting gradually better and Toothless was becoming more and more lively and energetic, his snoozes were getting shorter and more sporadic.

Led by an impulse**,** Hiccup embraced the dark neck. He might not be able to talk**,** however he could still render his feelings -every being could- with the simplest of gestures. Toothless tossed the hands away from himself with a grumble, although his eyes did not flicker with as much enmity as previously.

After his neck, the time came for Hiccup's back-gash. The dragon insisted for the third time on removing the stitches as the skin had already fused. There was consequently no further use for the "weird smell skin hold". This was promptly done after the boy's confirmative nod.

As it could have been any other way, Toothless insisted on knowing how come Hiccup's neck had taken this shade of purple.

Hiccup informed that he was caught by the Nadder's tail, but freed from the hold by Snotlout. He was confident in presenting this altered version of the facts, and he would not tell about the dragon's magic taking a large part in it, unless Toothless pressed him.

To his surprise, Toothless believed his words**,** and the boy was far from feeling guilty about lying to his glaring friend.

The last thing he wanted to do was to worry the dragon. The scaled beast stressed over every incident that happened to Hiccup.

As desirable and affectionate that deportment was it could not outweigh the youth's wish to keep Toothless as calm as humanly feasible.

He would bring up that topic again, later, when he would need to gather some battle strategy information, as future confrontations with the Nadder were inevitable.

Gobber had given them a whole week to patch up and prepare for the further training. Even if not directly involving dragons, the sessions would still be heavily dragon-battle oriented.

Weeks passed by quickly.

Toothless was as fast to forgive as he was to flare up with anger.

These few weeks were moments the boy felt he had been waiting for all his life.

He did not have to run after something that wanted to eat him alive or be concerned about the villagers' opinion about him.

These weeks were most peaceful and quiet for his mind, filled with warm closeness with the dragon, spending most of their time together snuggling or playing.

Toothless was getting better with every passing day and**,** recently, after the night's rest, Hiccup was able to watch him again train in his draconic fashion with astonishing silence and lightning movements.

The trainees were quick in their recovery as well and the chicken-muscled boy might have done something with it.

He knew of one thing that Toothless showed him, which worked very well on injuries of every size and shape**;** the only problem was how to collect the valuable panacea.

Gaining it was quite troublesome**;** however, the snoozing Fury's opened maw turned out to be very helpful with the gathering process.

Dragon saliva really worked wonders.

The scrawny boy's own training was coming along nicely**, **as well.

During that time he learned quite a heavy mass of information**,** and it appeared to be most useful.

The lessons involved battle tactics in crowded and confined streets. Building and setting traps for dragons, various drills repeated as many times as was necessary for them to become second nature, all involving teamwork.

From attacking a hay stock that represented a dragon, to lifting and turning over a loaded wagon to use as a barricade. Attack together and defend together. Strike and retreat.

Most of the drills they used had been invented by none other than his father and to his astonishment that was not all his father had contributed to Berk society

Catapults and whistle systems that told where the rocks would fall to warn the fighters, evacuation plans and paths, torch-bowls, the order in which the buildings were rebuilt, counting the stock and almost all inventory, trading with dragon parts, opening Berk to trade again and welcoming all merchants and newcomers... all these were Stoick's ideas, helped by his brother**,** Spitelout**,** and by Gobber.

Hiccup never had any idea of how much his father had contributed to the village.

To him, his father was a closed-minded person and, as in many ways he knew it was true, the behemoth of a man paradoxically also was very broad-minded when it came to adapting to something new that would help the village, foreign technologies or way of thinking.

Thanks to him, Berk, once a devastated and poor village struggling for survival, was now in much better condition and had a chance to prosper soundly, ...or soundly-er.

That was not the end of Hiccup's surprises.

Being in the Mead Hall had its benefits. He could eat and now talk**,** as his throat had been mostly healed one week after the fight with the Nadder. Laugh and drink.

He could also hit his cousin in the face with his mug and be applauded for that. Every brawl was applauded**,** and this one was no exception.

He was conversing vividly with Fishlegs about the dragons, his friend sadly without any new knowledge about the dragon runes yet, when Snotlout walked in with heavy steps and a very dark look to his face.

He sat assertively in front of Hiccup, looking at him as if he wanted to take a wooden spoon and scoop his eyeballs out.

And that was the nicest thing Hiccup imagined that his relative would do to him in that incoming moment. Stopping his chat and gulping loudly, he tried to think of anything he could have done to upset the highly-muscled teen in such a manner.

Snotlout bared his teeth with the corner of his mouth, looking far from feeling in peace and harmony with the universe. Hiccup leaned backwards, ready to fall and start crawling away, wary of every fist-shaped object flying into his face.

"Hit me," Snotlout snarled, glaring bitingly.

The bony youth immediately scanned his imminent environment, searching for Tuffnut or any sign of the whole situation being a practical joke. He turned to Fishlegs. Looking for any sign of understanding. His overgrown friend smiled and quickly evacuated himself from the seat.

"Hit me!" Snotlout repeated as a command this time, getting the full attention of the people around the hall.

"Why?" Hiccup asked, and yelped in fright when the demanding boy slammed his fists hard onto the desk, splattering the food and the mug's contents alike.

"Just hit me! Or d'you want a knuckle-sandwich, Toothpick?" Snotlout demanded, huffing strongly from his nostrils.

Hiccup did not want a knuckle-sandwich. Pressed by the bizarre situation he took hold of the nearest mug.

"But-," he attempted to resort to his usual, profound arguments.

"Shut up and hit me!" Snotlout roared, standing.

Sensing the unavoidable, Hiccup swiped hard with his cup, eyes closed. He felt it hammering against something and a loud thud from a falling body along with loud jeering and gleeful laughter.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Snotlout grabbing the table's edge and pilling himself up.

The burly teen stretched his neck, not wincing even once, and, standing tall, he outstretched his opened hand without a word.

He stood like this as Hiccup was getting over the shock of surprise.

In a way, he did not need this gesture to know that his cousin had changed his views about him.

It was satisfying enough for his mind yet. Feeling the hard hand close on his own and squeeze it powerfully was something he had secretly longed for.

He did not think about shaking hands or not. He did not ponder if he should forgive his cousin for the years of constant bullying and contempt. As they now fought together, it all became distant and irrelevant.

Snotlout did not need to prove himself or his intentions. As they faced danger together, shared fights and sweated and bled together, it spoke stronger than anything.

A small weight dropped from his heart, this worry about having to hate somebody. This ill intention he did not want to possess.

Tuffnut soon joined them**,** and they talked and laughed together as though they had known each other for years.

Hiccup never got as drunk in his whole life as he did that night, going with the flow and enjoying the fellowship.

He had fun.

Next night Crabslap died. He perished in his sleep, peacefully. A "straw death" for him and no glory in the afterlife as he did not die in battle, something people expected. Not many came to his funeral and almost none cried.

Despite that, he could tell with power and honesty that these few weeks were filled with enjoyment and happiness**,** with Toothless in the centre of it all.

Was there anything else he needed?

A small shadow in the background sometimes reminded him of a part of him which was still empty.

As he was surrounded with the pleasant commotion, he could see her leaving, alone and unreachable.

Astrid had chosen to move away from everybody. Aloof and silent through the training and disappearing afterwards to train further.

He asked Ruffnut what was wrong as even the girls' friendship appeared to suffer with the situation.

In her typically gentle manner, she grabbed his nose and twisted it hard, telling him not to bother himself with problems that were not his own.

However, he would not be himself if he did not blame himself -even partially- for it.

His best guess of why Astrid acted towards him in this way was that he had done something to upset her, or because he was weak or too weird... any reason worked.

Then again, why should it have been he who was causing the beautiful girl's behaviour? It might have been something with her family or her... trainer.

Now he felt himself growing jealous. And perhaps this was his way, this desire to be the cause of Astrid's alienation. Then, at least, he would exist as something in her mind. As something malicious and evil, but still ...something.

Toothless became the answer to all his problems, concerning his heart, body or mind.

Every night he let himself drift into the healing slumber.

After each nightfall**,** he woke up perked up and relaxed. And stronger. His muscles were growing stronger, still far below the strength of a natural Viking**;** however, this constituted enormous progress for his scrawny fishbone frame.

Snotlout taught him of a few tricks to do that involved back and front flips and other show-off tricks every self-respecting Viking had to know. Hiccup's muscles as small as they were, were very lean and hard and, because of their smallness, he could notice their growth in size.

Of course, still far below an average Viking body build

Initially, he thought that he was imagining things it as he often did**, **since his most favourite theme for fantasising was Astrid's body, now enriched with a few, no... two additional ...details.

He made Toothless furious several times with his daydreaming.

There was a reason for Hiccup's growth of strength. As there's a reason to everything in the universe.

* * *

He growled and slammed his forepaw into the ground in the dimmed space, engulfed in the night's light, immediately avoiding a lightning-speed cut directed at his head.

The enemy twirled with a quick step forward after the retreating target, used his momentum and swung the sword again with a fully outstretched arm.

Toothless avoided it simply by lowering his head**,** and he heard the air whistle. The traitorous stab followed instantaneously with another whirl of the body.

The dark head leaned to the side and the blade passed by him, barely missing, but following the movement and stabbing the right front paw into the shoulder area. The Fury accepted the blow with calmness and did not react as the burning sensation kept deepening through his muscles.

At this moment, the enemy left himself opened. A lazy swipe of his left paw should have been enough to make the human lose his balance. However, Hiccup had apparently learned new acrobatics. He jumped and twisted in the air... but did not land as he intended, though.

Toothless took a rapid step forward and rammed the curled boy as he still hovered in the air with his draconic head. For the effect, he had to wait for as long as it took Hiccup to fall on his back heavily, but after a roll, the youth got himself up with a hand spring.

The dragon huffed through his nose. These aerial tricks certainly looked impressive. For a human however, they left Hiccup open all the time he was in the air, only making it _look_ impressive, but carrying no combat value. On the contrary, they wasted too much energy for little returns and were too elaborate.

The simpler the move to avoid a hit was, the quicker you could counter it. This was true in every fight, no matter the species.

Hiccup sprinted back to attack again. The dragon let out a short grunt to make him stop.

Scalgertar's legs dropped into a walk**,** and he stopped in front of Toothless, exactly one hand length away.

The Fury growled with a short hesitation, Hiccup's palm sought the handle for a moment before taking out the sword from the flesh.

Almost no blood was spilt as Toothless controlled his shoulder's bleeding and pain. The damage was minimal,and the wound would heal within two sun cycles.

The boy breathed deeply, barely withholding himself from taking air through the mouth. His muscles shivered**,** and he was sweating heavily, keeping his sword low in his right hand. The dragon enjoyed the scent; it meant an efficient training for the pup.

Toothless breathed fire on two claws from his front paw and pressed them to the gash, folding the skin on the edges using his talons, closing the cut with a hissing sound.

Even the currently hypnotised Hiccup winced at the smell and sounds of such a treatment. True, the smell and taste of burning flesh was not enjoyable. However, despite that, the human should not have reacted.

Even while hypnotized by Toothless, Hicup could still control his moves subconsciously.

Toothless saw it as the youth fought.

He had let himself be stabbed to see if Hiccup could effectively attack a weak spot, yet the boy had damaged his shoulder in one place where there were no arteries.

It appeared hopeless for the dragon to eradicate that pesky sense of morality guiding the boy's actions even if he, in theory, should obey his every command.

Hiccup had a strong mind and as admirable as it was, the Fury preferred to be sure that, when given a chance, his disciple would not hesitate to kill something that threatened him.

The dragon looked up at the positions of the stars. They had trained longer than usual**,** and the youngling needed his rest.

Toothless grunted, beginning with a high note, another signal for the boy that the practise was over.

Oh, and that Hiccup could take off his blindfold as well.

* * *

Being a trader and meeting many people on my path I have heard many things.

Some believe that everything has a soul, a conscience.

That every object or item we use or that crosses the path of our life has one.

I never believed that.

Did the small rowing bow I was on now, have a soul? Or the ocean beneath? Many sailors believe that. Have a faith that the vast water has a soul of its own, moods and that it needs to be respected and feared.

These people only limit their knowledge, by fearing something they don't know, respecting something they cannot comprehend.

The saddest thing was how many things these people could understand if only they wanted to.

The reactions of an ocean could be predicted by knowing the flow of its currents of warm and cold water, predicting the weather, knowing the relief of its bottom.

What creates this illusion of soul is this element of unpredictability everything has.

Waters can strike in a devastating wave. Why? Because the ocean is enraged by some behaviour onboard? Because an alien, often completely unrelated custom such as having a woman onboard brings bad luck, or because stepping onboard with your left foot first can bring a disaster?

I looked at it from the side, with different eyes and a different mind. If these beliefs offered anything, it was a sort of assurance, giving strength to move forward. Fear was a weakness for every being which started to value its own life.

I used to be the same. The same believer. However, I believed in other things.

I believed that I could change something. A belief that many, many people share and that almost none of them carry into the future, stifled by the crowd of primitive beasts known as humans.

I took a deep breath, tasting the salty air and feeling the breeze on my face as I neared the island.

The wave lifted my boat as a child's toy. I felt safe then. Because there were always highs and lows, the same way as in life. Always. I believed that I was currently at the high point of my life and that I was going to fulfil another obligation I felt I needed to accomplish.

We do not fulfil promises for somebody else. We do it for ourselves. Slowly, working our way, so that in the end, everything comes to zero.

The oar rose from the navy blue water with a squeak of metal handles before another swing. It was good to use a more conventional method of transportation sometimes.

It felt normal for a change.

I enjoyed the trip, entertaining myself with an old reminiscence and a very precious one. I couldn't stop myself from musing over the long-lost past, thinking of the night where I lost everything and gained everything as I passed the test of fire.

Fire not only kills and destroys, but also purifies.

Those who came out from the fire alive were forged anew with new strength and free from what was wrong.

All what was wrong and spoiled would die in the flames. ...And only the strong shall survive the flame...

I would have never guessed, never expected the flame to reach me as well and mark my body and my future. I told this tale to one of the Viking Chieftain's, Stoick and it was because of the task that he asked me to that I was in the boat, nearing to the island now.

Thirty two years ago, that day, the sky was almost cloudless, only a few small puffs were gliding across. The air was fresh and cold on the upper hill of the mountain side, where the guerilla camp was.

We were hiding in a dense forest cover, moving from spot to spot, never staying in one place for longer than a few days.

The terrain was creating a real labyrinth; white rock formations jutting out from the treed land, not a place for a stranger.

The supply road the Empire used was seen from the hill as a small white band twisting and swirling on the lowland and disappearing on the horizon. The sun was low; it was late afternoon.

I was in the woods away from the camp, crouching by a tree.

My face was without any wrinkles, barely spotted with bristle and experience. The only thing that did not change was my dark hair, staying the same lively colour through my life. I was wearing a camouflaging green and brown leather uniform, the usual attire for somebody fighting in the forest.

I clutched a long bow in my hands, an arrow ready on the bowstring. I had been standing there for half a day already. It hadn't rained for days now, and the ground was dry and noisy. Walking was a bad choice for successful hunting, all the game would've heard my steps before I got within shooting distance.

I looked at the sky, my eyes sliding to the mountains' peeks, noticing a small flying speck, much different than any bird. A dragon for sure. There was supposed to be a nest in the mountains, nobody knew where.

There was an overall accepted rule: never try to fight a dragon, as killing any of them was nearly impossible.

I saw a dragon once when I was younger. From far away. It had been sunbathing on a rock high above the ground. I didn't see any details, only grey scales glistening in the light. The magnificent beast raised its head and looked in the direction from which I was peering. It jumped from the rock and flew away into the higher mountains.

That was another common rule: leave dragons alone so they'll leave you in peace, not in pieces.

These creatures were always hiding from man's eye. The only things reminding you that they existed were flying pinpoints near the snowy mountain tops that nobody dared to approach and rare, distant roars.

I heard the hushed noise of a branch breaking under somebody's weight. I smiled, spewing out the grass blade from my mouth; my prey was coming.

I crouched and moved carefully to the small bush near me. From between the leaves, I could see the animal making these noises. A fairly large female mountain chamois.

Kneeling on my right knee, I wiped the leather bracer protecting my forearm for good luck, and raised my weapon. The bowstring touched my cheek at the same spot it always did.

I released the arrow and didn't move for a brief moment. The chamois jumped and started to run chaotically. After a few more steps**,** it fell down, dead.

I approached the animal and looked at the quill made from the white goose feathers sticking out from the chamois' chest. Normally the arrow should've passed through the body, but it must've stopped at one of the ribs. I spit three times, as hitting the rib was bad luck for a hunter.

Not long afterwards**,** I was moving down towards the camp with the prey across my shoulders.

The sun was now near the horizon line, and tonight we had planned another attack on the support line. I stopped at one of the small clearings and whistled like a siskin. I always liked the sound of this small, yellow bird.

A similar sound answered, and several men emerged from the woods in front of me. All of them were so young, around my age.

"I see at least one of the hunters didn't return empty handed. Still**,** that's quite a small catch you got there," one of them said.

"Maybe you could've shot something with your bow, Madog, if you didn't have a lady's arms," I immediately rebuffed.

The group roared with laughter.

"You'll earn yourself several missing teeth with stupid comments like that," Madog said with hurt pride. He was very young but not the youngest, looking around fifteen years old, smaller than the rest of the men around him. He had brown hair and big blue eyes.

"I'm sure I will, but not from you, cousin," I assured, while patting his shoulder.

We went further into the forest. Two of the group were left behind to guard the passage.

My group was walking between the trees, sometimes suddenly shifting directions to avoid traps they had set for the unsuspecting enemy.

Soon we stepped into the larger clearing where their camp was.

The tents stood around and amidst them in the centre, was a large fire circle

Several people were sitting near it, talking and sharing a cup with stolen wine. Each man present in the camp carried a weapon of some sort, whether a bow, crossbow, sword or axe.

We all wore similar clothes that blended into the background. Our group was one of the smallest on this side of the mountain, around 160 arms of power.

The number was changing every day, when somebody died or joined. Either way. Although the first option would be the more probable.

The opposition had existed for around twenty years and, within that time, it had caused a lot of damage to the Empire.

This road had been built by the ancient Roman Empire and led to Milano, one of the biggest cities from the south of the Alps.

Some time ago, one of the mountain groups managed to destroy a big transport of weapons, armours and gunpowder.

The convoy also contained a lot of food and, to the ecstatic happiness of the attackers, some gold.

Milano had factories that purified the gold nuggets, changing them into pure gold metal. The main reasons this road was so extensively used by the Empire were the iron and stone mines scattered around the mountain belt. Building another road would take too much time and resources that the Empire could not squander, not to mention the people who would effectively hinder the construction.

The heavily loaded wagons could move only on routes like this one, sturdy and powerful. A perfect place for transport and, consequently, a perfect place for guerrillas and thieves.

At that time, both the resistance groups and the snitches were not so different.

They both had to steal from the transports whenever possible to survive, get new equipment, weapons or money. Later they traded in nearby villages for food or medicine.

The support for them was slowly dying, though. Fewer and fewer people wanted to help us, not only because anyone found collaborating with the enemy could end with his whole village burned to the ground, but also because the territories taken by the Empire weren't doing so badly.

Every nation could retain its own culture, destroyed cities received help to rebuild faster, the monetary system became the same as through the whole Empire, making the economy more stable, and the situation was getting gradually better.

The Empire's governmental language was taught in newly built schools, and education was publicly accessible. Hospitals had been built, and all of this required skilled workforce from bakers to soldiers.

People simply wanted to move on and live in peace. The Empire, as merciless in battle as it was, created such gratifying environment that it tempted many.

I could not blame them, even if most of the men and women in the camp did. Almost every one of them had lost someone in the war.

I, for example, had lost my father. He had been one of the high-ranking officers that had died in the battle near one of the nearby villages.

I had been away then, finishing my military training. When I came back, most of the village of my birth had been destroyed, and my mother, along with my siblings, was nowhere to be found.

People said that she had left, before the Empire attacked, with a large group of people escaping to the west. I never found them again.

I stayed near my village, near the place where my father died trying to protect my family and our country. I felt that it was my turn now to continue the cause, that I had an obligation to fulfil and I always fulfilled my obligations.

Madog was one of the boys that joined my group. He claimed to be one of my distant cousins. I did not need to believe him. The boy had felt alone and lost. Needing somebody who would care for him, which never was a sign of weakness or a crime in my eyes.

I had been so full of ideals and hope for the future.

I, and others in the group, had been driven by the need of retaliation. But for many participants there was a much different reason: to get as much profit as possible.

Some groups even attacked civilian transports, killing innocent travellers and raiding the villages.

I had experienced this scene a few times too many: burning villages and people dead, their bodies full of arrows' quills and spears.

Murdering, raping women and stealing- this was how some groups operated. To the present day I feel disgust as I recall these moments. However, it also taught me a very valuable lesson. Not everybody should be allowed to live.

Luckily for me, my group wasn't like that. Not yet at least. A few months ago, the old leader died; he was a great soldier and a man everybody wanted to follow. Somebody with principles and honour.

The new leader of the pack was much more aggressive and ruthless. I saw how his eyes shone with greed as he talked about the haul they were promised to get soon.

Tonight there was a rumoured shipment of great importance for the enemy, filled with gold, silver and every other shiny-sparkly metal shit which made some people drool like dogs.

Since the story had spread, a lot of people joined. Mostly with a law-breaking background: thieves, traitors or murderers, running away from punishment or running away from life in general.

I wanted this resistance to win the war. It wasn't about the revenge anymore. It was about keeping the ideas and principles alive for which so many of my people died, including my father.

Those who forget their past do not have a future.

Now, as I looked around the camp, some thoughts started to fill my mind.

This was not a group of soldiers fighting for the freedom of their country. The way the current leader was using words like _hono_r and _homeland_ were making me want to puke.

Not only did the Empire own the grounds that used to belong to our nation but it had also started to win people's allegiance and this was the worst weapon which could have been used.

It was becoming less and less important what we were attacking, even if the military escort was small and most of the group were soldiers recruited from the nearby villages. Under the cloak of big words and so-called heroic actions, this whole opposition had really just become an excellent trading ground for the black market.

Most of the new people that joined were just paid to rob and steal as much as possible, lured with the possibility of easy profit.

Even despite the law stating that anyone found with items stolen from the Empire would be sentenced to death on spot, more and more of, not only individuals, but also groups, were rising.

There were so many of them fights were starting between them for power and control over the lucrative "business" this struggle could bring.

I promised myself that, after tonight, I would strive to become the leader myself and show the people how to fight and win, and continue the ideals my father believed in.

It was dark now. The sky was cloudless, stars glistened brightly and the full moon was illuminating the versant. The colours of the world changed to grey and green as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even though it was night, the visibility was good.

My group started moving. It was time to begin the operation. Everybody moved in small units of ten men. It gave us better mobility in such steep terrain.

Madog was in my group. Our assembly point at the lower part of the mountain, barely two _latrs_ away from the road.

To my surprise, my group was not the only one waiting there. I recognized them; there were these groups that specialized in stealing and killing. Not freedom fighters but people who would kill even their own mother if that could get them something which shone like gold.

I couldn't believe it. I searched for my leader and soon I found him, talking with the leaders of the other units. I grabbed his shoulder and made him turn to face me.

"Why you are talking to these manslayers, Travis? What are we doing here with these lowlifes?" I said with clear anger in my voice.

My headman tried to conceal my words in front of the others with a false laugh. He spoke in an apologetic tone.

"I'm sorry. This boy doesn't know what he is talking about. Please give me a moment here."

The other leaders looked on, some with anger in their eyes; most of them however, had the eyes of a fish; unnaturally shining with absolutely no emotion, the eyes of a murderer.

I would observe such eyes once more that night, but those would not belong to a human.

Travis walked a few steps away and I followed, led by my emotions.

Being clear of earshot, Travis turned suddenly and started to whisper, his face bearing a furious expression.

"Shut your fucking trap, you little shit. I'm about to negotiate our participation in this plan. I won't let a stupid bastard like you ruin it."

I, of course, countered immediately.

"What plan? We are here to destroy the Empire's transport! We don't need to join savages like them. We have enough men and weapons for it. This is a cursed place! We ought to leave and…," But before I could say anything else, Travis leant even closer and talked with even more venom than before.

"Stop your idiotic ideals. That's why you were the only one who didn't know about this. Because of fucking insane people like you, we can't become anything more than the small shit we are now. The tables turned long ago, but you were too fucking stupid to notice it. The resistance is dead, the only true thing that matters now around here is how much you can earn and whom you're making business with."

I took a step forward and reached for my sword when I felt a sting on my back.

It does not require years of training to know when somebody is holding a dagger to your back. I took a look behind and saw two large men, one holding a dagger and the other a sword.

Looking forward I saw Travis smiling with these shining eyes. If anyone was fucking insane that night, he was, along with everybody else.

My hand started wandering slowly to the sword I had on my belt.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Travis said, widening the crack on his face, showing his yellow and crooked teeth. On a nod from him, one of the men slammed the sword's handle tip into my ribs. I gasped and flinched a little, but didn't fall, looking hatefully at the man in front of me.

I wanted him dead. Receiving my wish was not so far away in time, it eventually turned out. The man behind me hit me again, this time harder. I fell on my knees**,** feeling pain overwhelming me.

Travis grabbed my tunic and yanked me closer. Now he felt secure,as he had two thugs guarding me. If only I could have taken the leadership sooner...

"I didn't kill you yet only because I want to do it later, personally. If you say anything, my friend behind you will kill you faster than you can even blink. Just wait here until I'm done**, **and then I'll make sure you die a slow and painful death."

I was still on my knees, holding my side, and breathing shallowly from pain. I lifted my head and spat into Travis' face. He had said something about talking, but nothing about spitting.

He wiped the spit with his sleeve and punched me hard. I fell to the ground but was quickly pulled up by my captors.

"I'll make sure to return the favour later, when I cut out your eyeballs and present them to you before ripping out your heart! If he tries anything, kill him," Travis ordered the hoods, his face red from anger and walked away to the other group leaders that were waiting for him.

Travis apologized to them again and, from his body posture, he resembled a dog begging for a scrap of food.

I felt the blood in my mouth, spewed it out and listened to their conversation. They were bargaining about something. When I heard about what they were setting a price on, I felt the blood boil in my veins.

Travis was selling his own people, setting a price on his group just to make him join the raid. I wanted to stand up, but I felt the familiar sting on my back**, **and I was pulled down instantly.

Once the leaders were done with the price, including ownership over people but also gold, silver, weapons and many other goods, one of them gestured Travis closer.

"Come, you will receive your reward now," he said with a soothing tone and the unreadable fish eyes.

Travis, with a greedy expression, stepped forward.

I knew what would happen. I tensed, thinking about how to escape. The thugs put their hands on my shoulders, and one of them held a dagger on my throat. Apparently I was not alone in my knowledge.

Travis looked closer as the leader put his hand behind his jacket, looking with anticipation for the prize that was waiting for him.

He soon received it. With a lightning motion**,** a dagger flashed in the leader's hand and slashed through Travis' throat.

He fell on the ground, gargling and trying to hold back the blood spurting from his cut arteries. One of the thief leaders kicked his body aside with disgust. Without even looking at the dying man still kicking on the ground, he approached me, cleaning the blade lazily on his glove, and with an indolent flick of his hand, the two men holding me stepped away.

He looked at me, still kneeling on the ground. His eyes showed no remorse, nothing that indicated that he had killed a man just a moment ago.

He talked in a polite tone, not gesturing. A stone with an opening and closing mouth "I've heard a lot of good things about you. This scumbag dying there did not deserve to be your leader… I would gladly have you as my right hand, but I know that you will decline my offer."

I didn't even bother to answer, the man standing in front of me actually looked like he wouldn't care if I replied.

The leader carried on with his talk. "I've heard about your father as well. Most of us have, that's why I won't kill you now and will let you walk away," he raised his voice, directing it to the people from my group.

"Anyone who does not wish to join us can leave and has my promise that he won't be harmed, but if you join us, you will be welcomed like brothers and get more wealth that you can even imagine!"

None of the people present moved to walked away.

The leader, seeing it, crouched again and spoke to me quietly. "I like your ideals boy, but you will have to learn someday that people do not want to die for free. You're fighting for the motivation that you can make something good happen. _I'm _fighting for money. For money, you can buy anything you want**,** whereas your ideals are worthless now. People need ideals when they are in peril, when they like to listen to pretty words and heroic stories. You called me a manslayer earlier, but haven't you killed also? Are we really that different?" He stood up and said that one thing which would humiliate me and that I would remember more than anything else he said "I feel sorry for you,". And pity actually sidled through his eyes**,** "Leave all your weapons here and never come back."

I dropped my sword and bow with its quiver full of arrows on the ground.

"The dagger in your boot, as well," the murderer said softly.

I took out the hidden weapon and threw it away. I instantly turned away and started walking; I expected a feeling of being stabbed or hearing the whizzing sound of an incoming arrow or bolt. I wanted that. Nothing like that happened.

At the forest line, I saw Madog standing.

I approached him and said shortly "Let's go."

I took a few rushed steps, but my cousin didn't move. Turning my eyes to him, I saw Madog looking at the ground with a determined expression.

_Not you as well_, I thought, clenching my fists.

"Madog, come on, we _have_ to..."

"I'm not leaving" he said interrupting me. I lifted a hand to catch his tunic.

"We _are_ going. I don't have time to play your games now," I said, but the boy stepped away.

"I want to stay here, I want to earn some money and escape from here, start a better life. I don't want to stay fighting this war all my life, to spend every day just thinking on how to stay alive and barely having anything to eat. I want to live normally someday!" He was shouting now and took a few steps back.

I couldn't speak for a moment, not believing what I had just heard. I tried to approach him and take him, even by force, but a few men nearby strung their bows, aiming at me. I stopped,and my surrogate sibling and I just looked at each other in silence. I shook my head several times, soundlessly pleading the boy in front of me not to choose this path.

Madog, as an answer, slowly took a step back.

I turned and walked away, disappearing in the woods.

I walked up to the place where we had our camp before.

I approached one of the trees with a hollow in it and plunged my arm inside. I took out a bow, quiver with arrows and a dagger.

One of the rules my father had taught me was, "always be prepared". Hiding a dagger in my sleeve and putting the bow and quiver on my back I started running downslope.

I wanted to rescue Madog; the only thing awaiting the boy there was death.

I ran silently, like a ghost. From the clearing, I could see the road and the transport approaching.

There were many wagons pulled by horses and soldiers walking on the sides, holding torches, illuminating the road.

I stopped running, suddenly feeling somebody else's presence. I crouched beneath a tree, hearing people moving. From the sound of the steps, I could tell there were two of them, guards protecting the back of the main attackers.

I took out my dagger and waited for the right moment. I came out rapidly from beneath the trunk, materializing from the darkness behind the two victims.

I broke the neck of the first with a quick twist of my arms; the other got stabbed in the heart from the back before he even knew what happened.

Suddenly another human figure emerged from behind a nearby tree. Barely looking at what I was doing, I yanked out my dagger from the male's chest and threw it. It jabbed the approaching man in the head.

I hid the bodies behind the tree and took a sword from one of them.

I ran again, heading to the rock formation from which I knew I would have a good view of the area. I climbed up and lay flat on the top. The tree line was ending near the place from which I was watching and the small bushes were dispersed on the grassy hillside.

The opposite side of the hill looked similar.

I saw dark silhouettes moving from one tree to another, silently crawling in the grass. Since it was dark and they were wearing camouflaging uniforms, I couldn't see any details but from the quantity of figures I noticed, I could tell there were a lot of people involved in this attack.

These must have been all of the rebel groups from this side of the mountain.

The attackers were getting closer to the road, hiding in the nearby bushes and in the grass or whatever terrain that allowed it.

Looking at the transport, I saw a large fallen tree on the road in front of it. A very simple tactic. I looked at the soldiers guarding the wagons: they were looking around, ready to defend themselves.

I looked more carefully. Something was wrong**;** my guts were telling me this.

The way the guards seemed to act normally, casually, even though with the tree in the middle of the road, clearly meant that it had been done on purpose.

I looked at the one of the guards; the light from the torch he was holding outlined his face. I couldn't get rid of the impression that I had seen that man before. Suddenly, it struck me. That guard was from one of nearby village**s;** it was a big story there that some of the people were going to be taken to the Empire's army as recruits.

It was only a month ago, why would such an inexperienced greenhorn like him escort such a vital convoy?

My mind started analyzing this more carefully.

Soldiers should have begun taking the tree away from the road, but they were just standing, as if waiting for something.

The torch threw a light on another guard's face; he was young, his clothes barely fit him. I started looking nervously from one soldier to another. Every one of them was young, and all of them were from the nearby villages.

There were too few defenders**,** and they couldn't even hold their torches properly. They were blinding them, making them unable to see in the dark, causing them to be no more than a practice target.

It was a trap. It couldn't have been anything else. I was about to come down and look for my cousin when the attackers started to move. The rain of arrows struck the unsuspecting soldiers, filling their bodies with wooden shafts. A few horses got hit with the projectiles and started kicking and neighing loudly.

After a few moments, the shooting stopped. All the guards lay dead on the ground. None of them was even able to lift a bow to return a shot. Glorious victory. The soon-to-be-dead rebel bandits started to cheer and shout from joy.

They started to approach the carts when the leather tarpaulin covering each cart lifted a bit, and round metal balls flew out from underneath, each a little bigger than a man's fist.

The invaders hid on the ground. Arrows were shot again, and when everything went silent, some people started to move again, when**,** on each ball, a red light started to pulsate slowly.

A loud click was heard in the silence and the spheres started to hover in the air.

At this sight, people started to run away, some shooting, not doing any harm to the levitating items.

The red light changed to green and a bawling sound came, as blades emerged from the sides of each ball and started rotating quickly.

Everybody ran away, screaming and shouting in fear. I looked in horror, my mind not able to comprehend the events.

What happened next still haunts my dreams.

Balls started to zoom in the air with infeasible speed. The only thing you could see were traces of green light that lingered in the air for a while as they flew. Spinning blades cut everything on their path, aiming at the running humans, chopping off their limbs and heads**,** or ripping flesh.

The hillsides resonated with inhuman yells of pain and terror.

The leather covers on each of the wagons lifted off completely and soldiers emerged from beneath, all wearing black armour covering their whole body. The protection gear didn't seem to be made of metal but of some sort of material similar to leather.

They were holding weapons that weren't bows or crossbows.

All of them, as though commanded, held these weapons up and started firing.

These fired not bolts or arrows but blue bolts of fire. The energy obliterated everything in its path, leaving only burning holes in everything it hit.

It was a massacre.

Hellish scenes played before my eye**: **people were running, screaming, some were lying down, clutching their severed limbs, squalling from anguish.

The bladed spheres efficiently finished off the wounded.

Some rebels were hit by the fire beams and fell with large smoking holes in their chests.

Some managed to escape to the woods, only to be followed by the hovering weapon. Shrieks began to echo throughout the forest.

One of the Empire soldiers lifted a large rectangular metal box, as big as he was, from the cart and put it with ease on the road.

He opened the lid and, from the inside, a man stepped out. He didn't wear any clothing and looked like he had not eaten in a very long time. He resembled a skeleton: hairless body, thin arms and legs almost without any muscle left. Ribs could clearly be seen through his small, shallow chest.

He kept on looking in front of him with big, shiny, lifeless eyes. His mouth was closing and opening automatically, drool dripping from it.

The soldier stepped away, taking something from his arm-pocket to his hand and put it against the bald head of the living skeleton.

At the same moment, I heard a paralysing, inhuman-sounding shriek, chilling the blood in my veins.

This resonating sound, echoing in the distance, was coming out of the thin-limbed human, and held an unnatural power in it.

The man's frail frame stiffened as he raised his head to the sky and the air around him started to brighten. The screech was at its loudest, unbearably piercing, when his body combusted into flames.

At that point, fear had completely paralysed me. I could only watch as the mass of flaming flesh did not fall to the ground, squirming in agony, but started to walk forward.

Whatever that was, it couldn't be human. Humans did not make their voice sound like a banshee's screech and were not walking around when on fire.

Bushes, grass and bodies lying on the ground started to burn in the path of this hellish abomination.

The blaze was so strong now, the air around the flaming man started to ripple. Tongues of fire shoot high, lightening the area. Whirls of hot air seemed to change the stars and the moon, twisting them, distorting them into a nightmarish show as though they had been animated into life and started to dance, making the scene even more unreal than it already was.

The daemon stopped, standing in the middle of the inferno, a wall of fire around him. I felt the fire heat even from where I was watching.

I barely noticed the green lines move in the air, as each ball returned to the soldiers and hung in the space in front of them.

The blades stopped their spinning movement and hid themselves back inside the metallic sphere.

The green light changed back into a red pulsating one and, as the spheres dropped in the soldiers' outstretched palms, the lights stopped illuminating.

One of the black-armoured people placed himself behind the flaring devil, not affected by the heat as metal-melting temperature currents passed around him. It was as though he was in some invisible sphere. His dark helmet glistened in an auriferous manner.

His finger made a few sharp movements in the air as if he was drawing something with it.

As soon as he finished, the fiend sprang forward and ran at inhuman speed, charging at the nearest trees.

I only registered as it stopped for a split moment and swung one of its arms across the trunks, leaving a trace of orange, following the arm's movement. The tree's wood simply disappeared as if cut with a flaming sword.

As the massive wooden-bodies caught fire before touching the ground, I noticed a few human figures behind them. Most of them were now crawling and howling as animals. The flaming fiend moved on, going across the trunks, changing them into ashes.

Bodies on the ground ceased moving and started to blaze more.

Some that managed to escape were halfway to the tree line when the burning demon caught up with the first one.

The thing swung its hand again, cutting the escaping man in half.

As everything near it, the soon-to-be corpse caught flames as would a ball of hay. The pain the man must have felt before dying must have been unimaginable.

The abomination started to run again, reaching in no time the back of the second escapee. It hit the man's head with its open hand, cutting across the skull as it was made from air.

The flaming monster swiped its arm down suddenly, cutting the body across; parts fell on the ground, immediately engulfed in flames.

The fiend raised its head and started to shriek again.

Blood puddles around him were boiling and hissing, and most of the lower part of the hill was in flames.

I didn't need to see more. My numbed body was able to move again, controlled by the sheer will of survival.

I jumped down and started to sprint away from the flaming death. I was running almost blindly, tripping on the rocks and roots. I wanted to escape, I wasn't and I couldn't think, yielding to terror.

The only coherent thought in my mind was how to flee.

The air behind me increased in temperature. There was no way fire could spread so fast; yet the devil was coming and every cell of my body was aware of it.

I heard a familiar screech behind me; I prayed mentally that I still had time to run, thinking how precious every breath was.

I had a plan now, hastily created, but running didn't make sense. That thing moved faster than anything I had seen before**,** and it would only be a matter of a very short time before it got me with its skeletal, flaming hands.

For a brief moment I thought that I would succumb to my instincts and just try to run, but summoning all what remained of my self-control, I stopped and looked around for any clues as to where to go.

Seeing a familiar rock formation, I zoomed left, heading to the old camp. Instead of running in a straight line, I ran across from the burning doom. Noticing two trees I had been looking for, I placed myself between them and walked back carefully, heedful of every step, while facing the downhill.

The temperature kept increasing. I was breathing heavily, feeling cold shivers even with the inferno getting nigh.

I would only have one chance to do this and there was only one question: should I use the bow or the dagger?

The treetops in my eye-sight glowed in orange and red.

Bow or dagger? I could not afford to miss.

Nearly-painful waves of heat on my face made me narrow my eyes. Sweat was coming down my face in drops, all of my clothes were soaked with it, sticking to the skin.

I had no time to think. I took off the bow from my back and put an arrow on the bowstring. Trying to control my trembling hands, I pulled on my weapon and aimed in front of me, where I predicted that the fiend would be.

I didn't have to wait for long. Soon, the human figure ran into the small clearing in front of me. The fiend wasn't on flames now. It stopped and looked at me, cocking its head as if noticing something new.

Its mouth hung open, still with those glassy, lifeless eyes, like those of a doll, two pieces of shining substance only superficially resembling a human's.

Its body was in a worse state than before; patches of skin were missing, and I could see muscles and bones showing from the white flesh. The body wasn't on flames yet. Still, it sent so much heat, that the trees close to where it was standing started to blaze.

I couldn't believe it was still alive. I quickly corrected myself that this wasn't a human being. The fiend gaped, and then it shrieked lengthily, dashing forward with incredible speed.

Without hesitation, I altered my aim to the ground in front of me and released the arrow. It flew with a whistle through the air and cut the rope hidden in the grass. A large, metal- spiked trunk, supported from each side by a rope, emerged from the leafed tree-tops. It slammed into the fiend, needling him like a bug.

The trunk swung a few times until it stopped. The demon had its head low on its chest, not moving.

The ropes holding the stump started to burn, and soon the tree dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. The fiend's body, now keeling with its abdomen and legs pierced by thin and long metal needles, was still sending waves of heat. But it looked dead.

This trap was called "the hedgehog" and was popular in the Resistance. I lowered my bow and turned away, ready to run, when an explosion behind me threw me in the air and I crashed on the ground. I couldn't hear anything anymore, just a constant shrill sound rung in my ears. Blood poured out from my left ear, and I felt as if every bone in my body was broken.

I raised my head from the ground with difficulty and looked in the direction of the explosion. The trunk was on flames. The fiend was kicking and squealing, trying to get free. Soon the bole was burnt across by its thin frame.

The demon fell on the ground and started to crawl in my direction. Some needles were still in its body, getting white from the heat and, as it moved, they were getting deeper into its flesh.

I tried to stand up but failed, unable to keep my balance, buzzing still filling my unnaturally heavy head.

The fiend was still moving, its body flameless, doll's eyes locked on me, its prey, kneeling right in front of him.

I desperately tried to stand but I still couldn't, not having control over my body after the shock.

Summoning all my strength, I tried to grab the tree side near my hand to support myself. I had heard the demon behind me pacing and the shrilly-loud sound of metal scraping on the hard ground. My sweat -or was it blood-covered- hand slipped over the tree trunk.

I do not remember how I was able to see at that point. I fell again, tired. I turned and leaned against the tree, looking at the coming monster. Its almost destroyed body still advanced, using the one hand that was still working, the other broken and scrubbing by the side, digging its long nails into the soil, moving its body on the ground in a sound of scrubbing needles.

I tried to draw out the dagger from my sleeve, but my movements were uncoordinated and clumsy.

The fiend, now nearly next to me, raised its thin, almost skinless, hand and grabbed my forearm into its bony fingers. I felt my bones break under the terrible force and my skin burn. I could smell the odour of burned clothes and flesh.

I screamed and, finally getting a hold of my dagger, I thrust it right into the fiend's eye with all the strength I had. It went deep, down to the handle. The monster's hand stopped crushing my arm and, after an almost human-sounding sigh, its body lay still.

I crawled away, as far as I could, breathing heavily and feeling all my body ache.

I heard the sound of fire again and turned back, almost petrified from fear. The fiend's body was on flames, but this time it was not moving. The flames were red in colour, consuming its body. It was disappearing quickly, flesh, and bones changing into grey ash. The last thing I saw transform into dust were the fiend's eyes, still looking at me, shining and dead as they were since the beginning.

Only a small touch of dust remained after the monster on the burned soil.

I held my gaze on the grey pile lying on the ground, unable to move, completely exhausted.

From the raging forest fire in front of me, through the flames emerged a soldier, a black armour covering his whole body. He held a strange weapon in his arms.

I did not care anymore when the soldier took his weapon up and aimed at me. I felt my eyes close, and I was ready not to open them ever again.

Years later I learned several truths about what happened.

Who were the soldiers, why they did this and what exactly was this blazing demon chasing me. It wasn't a demon, no. It was a human.

The sand scrapped the bottom of my boat as I arrived to the island, stopping my reminiscence.

This memory from my past left me with the misty breath I let out. From the side of my boat lay the remains of the small village. They looked burned, further mauled by the elements. A very good welcome card for the visitors. Perfect camouflage. To complete this tawdry decoration only a few skeletons were needed. Oh, but here they were**!** Hanging on the trees and ringing like wood-bells in the wind.

I hummed to the tune the bones were making, while tying the boat to a tree. I had seen enough of such decorations to treat them as part of the landscape. I only needed to lace my high leather boots and to correct the high-collar of my brown leather jacket and I was ready to go.

It was quite chilly as it was very early in the morning. The soft wind was slowly breaking on my face, the only place that was not covered with any material.

Perhaps was it due to the memory, but I felt irritated by the unnatural stillness and quietness of the shore. No animals were heard, only a swoosh of the leaves and the quiet racket of my boat, its rear wobbling on the small waves.

It was all another primitive way of keeping people away. It worked**,** and the worst part of it was that it had worked on me as well. I had been on this island long ago with the same purpose, but without my current knowledge**,** and I had left.

I hate wasting my time.

The wet sand crumbled beneath my feet as I strolled through the forest, swooshing through the low ferns. More skeletons. Five men, two women and three children. As I was nearing, the ornamentations were amplifying in their disturbing factor. The next things I found hanging were skulls and religious symbols, mostly crosses, nailed to the trees and covered in blood.

If the ordinary traveller had not run away by that time, that meant they were either crazy or stupid.

I was neither.

The next superfluous embellishment was still fresh**,** a relative term of course. Fresher, at least, than the skeletons, as it still had some flesh left.

I looked at the cruelty with which that unfortunate male corpse had been treated. Even the crazy and stupid would have run away by now. I was getting closer.

My right forearm warmed as I neared my destination.

I rolled up the sleeve and the bracer showed. Furrowed with thin lines coming from the circular opening, cutting through the black, matte metal. Inside the opening was a small, green crystal. To the inexperienced eyes it was only an unusual looking piece of armour. To me, it was one of my closest friends.

"Yes, we're getting close, Balerdargur," I whispered**,** barely opening my lips, my fingers running along the well-known shape.

I quickly rolled up the sleeve**, **and my eye wandered to the sides. After that, I resumed my march until I got to a small clearing. In front of me was a ravine. Deep and silent. My eyes studied the ground**,** and I soon noticed the small electric discharges by the edge and the black colour of the abyss being distorted with it, showing something silvery beneath it.

Ward.

It was indeed irritating, the boys were getting late.

I heard a click; one I was familiar with. I quickly took out a small metal card from my pocket and held it up.

From beneath the ground, a metal ball emerged, bladed and hovering in front of my head. It wobbled unsteadily in the air and I knew, just from their look, that the blades were nonoperational.

That trick would have made anyone run away. The drone in front of me was not a threat. It was barely active, on an automated identification protocol. ...No, it could not even identify.

It assured me that the people who had stumbled upon the installation did not know how to use it.

It saddened and irritated me further.

Just a piece of junk.

Behind me**,** a few figures stood out from between the trees, armed in what I identified were four-shot crossbows, muskets and, oh, a few spears.

Oh, how threatening.

I looked at one of the spear-blades more carefully. I did not let my surprise show on my face. I did not feel anything, ergo they did not know how to use the equipment.

One of the guards, wearing scraps of metal armour, however full of holes and missing parts, looked the most presentable of the all savages behind me. He stepped closer and carefully took the card from my hand. He looked at me from behind a very long and very dirty curtain of black hair. He looked young, around twentyish perhaps**,** and his comrades were not much older.

I could identify some scraps of decrepit armour on his body**,** pathetically held by leather cords. A very typical armour used for infantry, primitive when comparing it with the other parallel technological inventions. However, for spears and arrows, it would be a completely impenetrable piece of metal and only somebody high in the hierarchy of these island inhabitants would carry such a valuable possession. The other inhabitants just wore woollen tunics and animal skins.

"What's that?" the man in the broken armour asked in English. Excellent. They spoke in the Northern Common. He looked warily at me, holding his spear pointed at my body.

"A gift for your respectable leader," I answered seriously and turned to him. He reacted immediately, pointing the blade close to my sternum. His group raised their weapons as well.

Slowly, I raised my hands so high that even a blind person could see them. I knew from experience that the crossbow bolt-release mechanisms did not like sudden movements. This welcoming crowd seemed like people who would first spike you with a lot of sharp object. Well, right after asking a few questions.

"First a few questions," the young scrapper said, looking over me to search for any weapons, "How do you know about this place? None whose came this far has not away after seeing the Great Sentinel," he said this part with such a faithful belief that I was barely able to withhold snorting with laughter. That barely working piece of a technology they did not understand was called the "Great Sentinel" when it should have been called the "barely-flying-piece-of-debris".

The sparkling excitement in the man's eyes told me enough. They were praying to it.

That was just... sad. I've seen worse things**,** though.

"From a friend," I answered with a comforting smile. The spear's tip closed.

"I never trust somebody I do not share my friends with," the trash-covered leader said, with glistening teeth.

I was impressed. Intelligence was not a thing I expected here. Then again, it was a place nobody was supposed to know. It was obvious there was no easy access.

"Then I hope the name, Christopher Edams**,** will help you rest assured?" I said soothingly, holding as still as possible.

This was exactly the part of the situation where sneezing could be deadly dangerous.

My nose itched and now was not the time for such a dramatic turn of events. Not yet.

"The token?" he asked, eyes not leaving my body.

Of course, everybody knew about the token; thanks to this, I did not need to introduce myself.

Chris had sworn that he did not know anything about a token. An amputated ear later he had become much chattier.

He was known in a very small circle as one of the Artefact Hunters and used such outlaw groups to get his blood-smeared hands on more of the ancient items.

They were very rare**,** and a vast part of them was in an unusable condition. However, there were people who were willing to pay enormous amounts of money to get them, even only as a decoration. To me, these people were not much different from those skeletons hanging by the branches by the beach.

Getting one of these to those fat pigs, drunk with power and wealth, who would not even see how many lives it cost to get them one of such items...

I took out a small, metal rod with a few incisions on it. It was one of the cleverest things they had invented to protect the secret. The cuts served as some sort of code and were changed regularly. I hoped I had a still-valid one**,** as Mister Christopher would not be able to create any more coded poles, now.

The guards' leader took out an identically looking rod and compared them together, seeming to be fully absorbed in the process.

I then realised a small fact with these people: they were fanatics, ones you would not break. Negotiation was a word far alien to their minds.

I waited patiently for the man to finish or attack me. Either way, I was sure that if I were now to expect an attack, it would come as a sudden, trained stab or a signal to open fire.

The rabid believer took away his eyes from the rod and looked at me. It would start... now or never. Then he pressed the poles to his forehead and chanted something beneath his breath.

I became alert, but smiled to appear, as I was in fact, pleased with the procedure.

Uneducated, easy to manipulate, self-depreciating troglodytes.

With blank eyes, the leader walked by me and then knelt in front of the abyss and bowed his head. I still had my hands high as some of the welcoming staff started checking my clothes for weapons. I had to take off my boots as well.

...Making sure I was unarmed. I always was.

The main guard, or priest, as I called him in my mind stopped his prayer and stood up, gesturing me to pass through the Great Gate. Great Gate? Great Sentinel?

Whoever came up with such names had a huge phallus problem.

Everybody stiffened**,** and I could sense the excitement as we were going to cross the barrier. They gestured me to go first, eyes focused on me, obviously to see if I would be able to take a step into the abyss.

"W-what you want me to do?" I asked with pretended fear.

"Step into the unknown! A test of courage! Only the Worthy are allowed to Pass!" the priest said it with such excitement all of his body trembling in such a way that I thought he might orgasm in a moment.

Make somebody who did nothing in life feel like the Worthy One,and you will have his undying loyalty.

"Walk or Die!" he yelled after me, pointing the spear at my back. The rest followed this overdramatic display**,** and my choices were quite limited. Controlling my face, I acted terrified and walked a hesitant step, first trying to check if there was any ground beneath my foot. They seemed to enjoy seeing an Unbeliever such as me get in such a fright.

Then I took a step, feeling small statics run in my skin as I passed the Displacement Grid.

I quickly took a step forward, seeing the ward by my left side project the image at what seemed the entrance of a cave.

I sighed, another barely functional item. Did they actually have anything worth using?

The guards followed through,and we moved forward through the tunnel lighted by the blue, gentle light coming from the limed wall. I could still discern the rhomboid-shape the corridor had had long, long ago. These were very impressive ruins of an installation, probably a simple shelter. It had to be destroyed.

Our steps echoed through the nasal passageway as the path sloped down steeply.

Small ponds of crystalline clear water reflected the blue light from the ceiling, mostly obstructed by light-brown lime-residue.

The corridor then ended**,** and I walked into a large chapter.

Here, it was undeniable that this structure had been created by man's hand. The room was around ten meters high and twenty long. I could still see the walls of the construction.

The surface had been mostly destroyed, stripped centuries ago from its smooth layer,and it was roughened and deeply pitted, masked by the moss and lichen.

I took a step inside and saw a very prestigious-looking throne, elaborately decorated with gold and some metal scraps apparently found in the 'cave'.

I did not like the look of it. Too flashy for the memoir of something that was used to help preserve and safe life.

I also did not like that there was a person chained by the wall. A fresh acquisition, judging from the state of her body. I did not like how her face and exposed body were covered in bruises and blood and that she looked no more than twelve years old.

She jerked suddenly and her eyes opened, beautiful green**, **still shining with life and most importantly, hope. The child huddled quickly, pressing herself against the moistish rock in wait for a beating. Her exposed and tiny back as her blonde hair fell on the side, rolling on the ground, was a testimony that the whip was used commonly on her.

Keeping my face emotionless became impossible . I turned my gaze to the front**, **and that helped to deal with my emotions before anyone would look at my face.

I heard the sounds of somebody approaching from behind the knoll, hearing sounds from another tunnel that I did not see. I crossed my right hand's thumb over the index finger and pressed it to the tip of my middle finger. This simple mind-control would have to suffice to calm me.

Two rows of people came out from behind the rubble-hill marching towards me, all of them wearing the same scraps of metal around their bodies as the guard behind me had. Whilst the guy behind me had them in fair amount and they could serve as more or less, protection, the crowd in front of me seemed to use them pathetically, more as an ornament or as a religious symbol.

Most of them were men and only a few women. They all were different, not only in look and clothes, but in skin colour as well: olive, brown, dark and white. Getting such diversity was very hard unless... I quickly glanced at one of the women's exposed neck. I saw the part of a tattoo on it.

I wanted to grin from happiness.

The Black Scorpions. One of the Empire's lost units, made of experienced soldiers, acting indecently as a mercenaries. They were famous for fighting in North Africa.

After getting too far with their orders by burning one of the cities to the ground**,** they had all been sentenced to death**, **and they got the wolf's letter. Which meant that they had the dispatch unit after them and mercy on them if they caught them in their claws .From the few hundred units only a couple managed to flee into the Northern sea.

It was laughable how one of the best battle groups had become the faithful worshipers of illusion.

The crowd surrounded me,and all unsheathed their swords and pointed them at me, enclosing me in the bladed circle, glaring at me with the same glazed frantic expression.

That was not in the plans.

Then the owner of this circus appeared, striding majestically and sitting on his throne.

He was young. Very young for the ruler of such a dangerous band.

He threw his leg over the oak's armrest and looked at me with a bored expression.

He wore the standard adaptable Empire black armour. Soft as leather, harder than steel. There were not much of such protective gear available**, **and only the best of the best were allowed to wear it.

That brat had assassinated the User and stolen the outfit. I did not know how and I did not care. If not him, it would have been me. I could see that it did not fit perfectly and was slightly too large for his small frame.

The emblem on the chest was barely visible, and it looked as if somebody had tried to scrub it out.

One of my personal escorts walked to the master and**,** kneeling low**,** he gave him the metal card from me.

He looked at it with his dark, bored eyes, sighing as if it was something draining a great strength from him, as his servant crawled out like a worm.

He took out a small circular item, looking like a medallion with a glassy surface and pressed it to the card. I knew it would change its colour from black to yellow.

Then, for the first time, he looked impressed and his face lightened with pure greed. He placed it down.

I scratched my nose, deciding to drop the act. It was sorely obvious where all of this was going.

"Sire," I said politely, looking at him, "Would you mind listening to me**,** please?" I asked confidently, rising my eyebrows in a cocked smile.

He looked at me with more interest and waved his head idly.

"You may speak," he said majestically with a squeaking voice that almost made me laugh.

Somebody had very strong complexes here and people with the biggest personal issues often made great dictators.

Weird thing, but the more twisted the leader's personality was, the more devoted were his followers. Corrupting and influencing the group by showing several tricks using stolen technology. How pathetic. But how clever.

"I have a...proposal, my kind Sire," I scratched my nose again. The high humidity in the cave was irritating my skin, "I promise you that if you let me take the man who told you who I was with me without any trouble on your side... Please listen. I promise to leave this island without killing you and your men," I finished with a benevolent smile.

Insert laughter**,** please.

There. They all laughed loudly and the master of these puppets giggled in his hilarious girlish voice.

Thank you.

"How could a person without a weapon or any sacred power ever think of touching me? " he uttered**,** jeeringly**,** through the small fits shaking his body.

He was the most stereotypical mad ruler I had ever met.

He did not think why a person surrounded by sharp blades from every side and being against a person who most probably owned some sort of weapon which made him powerful, would act so confidently and ask such a proposal in the first place.

He had not even the shadow of a doubt that he was the more powerful here.

And I really had wanted to leave this place without resorting to violence.

Unbeknownst to the maniacally giggling crowd, the chained girl's body suddenly became limp**, **and she dropped to the ground. Nobody noticed, staring at me, awaiting a command to pierce and slash my body.

However, before the fated words fell, I cleared my throat. Now was the time for a dramatic turn of events.

"I am not sure, Sire, what a sacred power is, but I can answer your question as to why I do not carry any weapon with me, if that would satisfy your insatiable inquisitiveness," I said formally.

The ruler's finger was already in the air**, **ready to drop at any moment. The sword's blades neared, getting close to my face. I caught the blade gently in my gloved hand.

"That's because I don't need any," I said darkly with a wide grin as the blade broke beneath my fingers.

* * *

From the cave entrance a body flew out, crashing into the rocks of the rubble-hill. The man gasped and crawled. A brown glove grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back, causing a loud yell.

" A-a-a-a-afsakið? Dreptu mig ekki!" he wheezed out looking at his attacker, " B-b-b- Brædan, ég bið þig afsökun!" he pledged, looking as if he would cry soon.

" Hættu í þessu, vælandi barn !" Braedan replied, repulsed by such low behaviour. He slapped the trembling man across his face, " Hlustaðu það sem gerist núna!" his voice dinned through the silent room, making the crawling man look at him through his long and greasy hair in a momentary stillness.

"You will die," Braedan said calmly in Norse**, **and when the man started whining**, **he slapped him hard again and pulled him up, "Stop it! Stop disgracing yourself, Fouleye!" the man stopped moving as Braedan uttered his name, sobbing quietly.

Braedan took a breath, "You will die, my friend, you know for what reason and you know from whose order. The person that ordered me to gather information paid me to make your group's deaths as painful as possible. However I am leaving you here with a choice," he said as if he were elaborately explaining something. His calm, amiable voice seemed more to be talking to a beloved friend than to somebody he would kill in a moment.

Fouleye peered up at him with watery eyes, biting his lip. Now he appeared like a middle aged man with a destroyed face, scarred and wrinkled and above all... tired.

"You used to be a member of the Outlaw Viking group before joining this... establishment," Braedan said in a monotone, standing up, "You knew that I was going after the members of your group and you came into hiding. It took me a very long time to find you**, **and I congratulate you for hiding from me for so long. Now, I _know_ you were the one who saw_ it._ You saw who killed Stoick's wife, Valhalarama" Braedan said emotionlessly**, **and the man trembled again, hearing the names, but his face attempted to appear hard.

"You know what I am getting at,and I am sure you had plenty of time to ponder over it to remember every detail of that frightful raid," the merchant stated cordially**, **taking out the monocle from beneath his jacket and mounting it on his right eye.

He placed his hands beneath his back and looked down menacingly at the man with dangerous eyes, "Twelve years ago at the night of the first day of Harpa, you, along with your group**, **attacked the village of Berk in search of quick wealth. In the process, most of the attacking force was killed, underestimating the battle capabilities of the defenders," Braedan said coldly, holding the male affronter in place with a stare colder than his voice," You were the only one in contact with Valhalarama's killer after your group was destroyed by one of the military vessels. You will tell me**,** now, where Valhalarama's killer fled after your group scattered away. And you will answer truthfully. Know, that I always can tell when somebody is lying to me. Do so,and you will end the way they did," he said grimly and pointed his gauntleted finger at the mound and the scene behind it.

Fouleye looked in the direction Braedan pointed and started breathing quickly. He slid down, small rocks cracking as he did. He gazed up at his prosecutor, eyes filled with fear. His ragged clothing and dirty appearance made him appear as a wild animal that had turned to his basic instincts, full of fright and terror.

"Y-you!" he wheezed out with hate, "You took everything from me! My comrades! My family! Because of you, we scattered and hid ourselves not to see each other again! And you did it for nobody else than the Berkian Vikings! You squalid dog!" he bared his teeth, spewing the most disgusting curses he knew.

Any of them would have made any Viking kill on spot the person who said them.

Braedan listened, not moving**, **and let the man talk. Waiting for the proper moment and observing, "They were the cause of me and my comrades becoming Outlaws! They raided our island first! Killed almost everybody! My tribe! The Barrelchest Folks! Gone! All because the Berkians needed to demonstrate their power to other tribes! They used us as a demonstration of their superiority to end the war faster!" his voice was rising in power until he shouted and stood up, standing proudly showing the dignity which that ailed man once had.

"I disgraced my tribe as I did not die with them in battle! Most of us left**, **and we wanted to destroy the Berkians! Blood for blood!" he boomed, raising his right fist into the air. He looked at the man in front of him without any fear, encouraged by his visions from the past, "I will never tell you where he is!" he yelled, and,with a cry he**,** jumped at Braedan to meet his death.

The trader's hand was visible only for a split moment as a brown gauntlet drifted in the air.

Fouleye fell on the ground and stood up, holding his reddening cheek, licking the blood from his broken lip. He had been slapped.

What an insult to a warrior**!**

He lunged,and the situation repeated.

"Thank you for telling me this story, my friend," Braedan bowed his head slightly, "We both are victims of our desire to follow our ideals. To me, is to do 'good' in my moral sense. And,to you,it was to seek revenge. Before you decide to jump at me again, please listen to my proposition," he said pleasantly raising his hand in a cease and desist gesture.

"You know that I will find him, sooner or later,just as I found you and the others. That being said, if you tell me where I can find the one I am searching for, I will...," he smiled, "...I will grant you a warrior's death".

Fouleye's face showed his shock**, **and he bit his lip. Braedan followed the strike.

"Each of your companions had the same choice. Each have chosen the same way. You sought the protection of the 'supernatural' ways by joining the cult, but you never rejected your beliefs!" his pupils dropped to the silvery necklace, hiding behind the dirt-spotted tunic.

The tired man slowly grabbed the jewellery and took a small silver hammer dangling and twisting. It seemed to shine in the big, soiled hands as the man stared at it with a tough face.

"This is why you chose that way of life. Because you could not die in battle with members of your tribe, but here they are!" Braedan said crisply and rotated his hand to himself fluidly.

Behind the gloved fingers a dozen of necklaces dropped, all rotating and glistening. All the same ones as the one Fouleye was wearing, "All of them chose to die with honour. They all knew that I am inevitable! I am your destiny!" he waved the necklaces in front of the man's face, who looked at them as if hypnotised.

The crosses dangled rhythmically, getting closer to Fouleye's face. Exhausted blue eyes followed the movement, the almost unnatural gleam from the mementos of his friends reflecting in his eyes. His features relaxed**, **and his face became blank.

"Speak! I command you!" Braedan's voice sounded from somewhere far away.

Fouleye smiled and told everything he knew.

* * *

The boat glided through the water, raising and falling on waves.

Braedan rowed slowly with powerful sweeps, looking at the island disappearing behind him. Smoke was coming out from the centre of it**,** and the sound of another explosion infused the morning air.

At the bottom of his boat was a small child, lying unconscious, wrapped in his enormous brown leather jacket, her blond hair falling across her sleeping face. The oars creaked as Braedan pulled them again.

His white, long-sleeved shirt flapped in the chilly ocean's wind.

He stopped rowing and his back hunched, wanting to enjoy the moment of calmness. He put his hand into his pocket and took out the bundle of silver necklaces.

He leaned his hand outside the board and then opened his palm, letting the jewellery drop into the ocean.

He grabbed his right wrist, next to the bracelet covered by the shirt.

Nothing changed in people. This man died happily as did each of his comrades before him, because faith dictated it.

Even if their beliefs were false, the fact that they had perished with a smile on their face was enough... ...wasn't it?

Braedan grabbed the oars' handles and rowed again.

The ripples were cleared by the incoming wave from the surface. As the entity that had created these items, they would remain forever unnoticed and forgotten, surrounded by darkness and nothingness.

Wood creaked as Braedan travelled away, back to his ship.

Nothing had changed.

* * *

AN: You should be pretty confused now. The first P.O.V. I did as a little experiment from my part to see if I can write it well (Yes, it was Braedan all along who did not get it. I think I left enough clues to quickly quess it). Tell me what do you think. Honest opinions are encouraged. Laters!


	24. Showdowns

AN: I apologise for the long wait and the short chapter. Now, please enjoy.

* * *

Mugs clashed together with a cheerful clatter, mead spilling briskly over the large table's aged oak surface.

"Congratulations t' ya all!" Gobber announced merrily, raising his cup-holding contraption high, his metal tooth charmingly glistening with his wide grin, "Today was th' last day of yer Dragon Training! I am more than proud tha' all of ya managed t' get through it. Alive and sassy!" he shouted, and joyful cheers erupted along with a loud clatter as cups clinked against each other.

Around the largest table in the Mead Hall the whole training class was gathered**,** along with their teachers and their families to celebrate such a valued occasion.

The laugher strengthened and the crowd engulfed in rapid chatter eating from enormous platters and drinking with a quickened pace from the opened barrel by the table's side.

Hiccup sat by Gobber, hungrily devouring his vegetable root soup. He looked at the merry crowd surrounding him**, **noticing each trainee sat with his family.

Tuffnut and Ruffnut sat with their mother at far right end from the boy. The eye-catching blonde girl twin was dressed in a simple, light yellow ankle-long dress and had her hair pulled high in a long-pony tail. She was helping her mother cut her meat**, ** and Hiccup could see how much the woman's hands trembled. Her brother had refused to wear anything else besides his training clothes, still looking dirty. Still, he was sitting with his chest puffed, grinning to the passing lasses.

Fishlegs' family took up the rest of the right row at Hiccup's side. His parents**,** along with their two daughters and three sons**, **sat together. Each Ingerman competed to be the main party-food devourer.

To Hiccup's happiness and**,** later, irritation, Astrid sat across from him. She wore a long, blue dress that widened on her sleeves, her hair supported with the usual headband. She wore a charming necklace made of black opals and looked absently at the plate in front of her, playing with her food, her face hard and her eyes cold. The forgetful youth in front of her thought he might have been the cause of it.

Her father was conversing loudly with Fishleg's father across the table about the use of the stones in ship-building. Her mother smiled beautifully, quietly saying something to Astrid. The younger female Viking answered with a forced smile, flicking her head. This perfect view was destroyed, however, by Fleshpetal sitting by Astrid's father seeming to be very interested in the discussion about sticks and stones.

Snotlout was unusually quiet. Being separated from his best friend, he did not have anyone to exchange boisterous comments with. Only one of his parents was here, tonight, and she was correcting the collar of his red leather shirt.

"I can do it myself, mom!" he said grumpily, leaning away from the grooming hands. This was one of those rare occasions where he was freshly washed and groomed, and his mother looked happy and proud of her son's appearance and achievements.

Everybody looked greatly pleased. Their families were with them to celebrate, to laugh... to hear how much they were proud of them...

Except for one trainee, who had no family present tonight.

Hiccup placed his mug on the table quietly and lowered his head. He felt that it was a joyous occasion, that there should be some sort of unity between him and the people here.

He remembered why he used to love his culture and how he had been awaiting this moment to hear his father praise him. He still yearned for it**;** that part of him never disappeared, but this was overshadowed by his desire to see his father come back alive.

He had taught himself already long ago how to live without his father.

He rarely thought about it, now that he had gotten used to it.

It was a weird sort of agreement he had with his father, an unspoken rule that rooted their household.

This rule was to never show feelings to each other, just keep a distance that was healthy enough for his father to tolerate him and for Hiccup to have enough freedom not to cross paths with his provider too often.

They had stopped talking to each other long ago, except for the strictly necessary words. It satisfied both of them and gave Hiccup plenty of time and space to find ways to keep himself busy.

It would have been all right if his father remained quiet on this occasion. It would not have saddened Hiccup much if his father did not praise him.

...If only his father was here.

"Can I squeeze in?" a gentle, low voice asked behind the pensive boy's back.

"Certainly, young man," Jawlock's wife said in a pleasant tone, grabbing her husband by his sleeve and pulling him to move.

"How is it going?" Fishlegs exuberantly greeted his friend, placing his enormous body next to Hiccup.

"Not bad," the small auburn-haired youth answered automatically with an appeasing smile.

"I know I will enjoy the week off before the final qualifying fights," the bulky youth said with a relaxed sigh.

"And?" Hiccup inquired, looking at his friend from the side.

"I will try to win... not that I think I will be able to. I think that either you or Astrid will be chosen to fight the Nightmare. I am almost sure it will be you," Fishlegs spoke confidently.

"Oh...right. Those wonderful matches to determine the greatest Viking. Great." the scrawny youth said sarcastically.

They were blessed with one whole week of doing nothing, for them to get rested and gain strength before the start of the fights that would select the best warrior of them all.

No teamwork or training with anyone else was allowed anymore. Since they had been taught all the basics, they now should be able to train themselves without supervision. After all, they all were only a step away from being called a Viking and earning their Viking names.

Hiccup did not know if he should feel happy about it or not. Sometimes, he hoped to be chosen first so that he could leave Berk and end his adventure with dragons and stop worrying constantly about being blasted, choked, fried, spiked, or again, decapitated, halved, bit or gnawed to death. This was a great perspective**, ** however if he left, did he really solve anything for the dragons? The dragons still would be in danger, especially the Nightmare.

He thought about the Nadder. With some dragons the roles were reversed: the human hunters became the hunted.

And Hiccup still had not told Toothless the truth behind his bruised neck.

He had a whole week to find a safe way to tell the Night Fury that he had almost died fighting a magic-using dragon and that he was going to meet that dragon again in a few days.

Indeed, it was good telling himself that he still had a whole week. Because, right now, he did not know what to do. The same way he did not know what to do right after that fight with the Nadder ...four weeks ago.

"I think you are strong**, ** Hiccup," Fishlegs said quietly, and took a big gulp of his mead,"Much stronger than I am," he mumbled quietly with a nervous smile.

Hiccup's mouth opened. And then closed.

"W-what?" he managed to gasp, abashed and mostly peeved by the absurdity of the statement, "Has your hammer dropped on your head recently, Fish?" he queried, his face showing pure condemnation.

"I don't even know where to begin... just-just _look_ at me!" Hiccup said and gestured at his petite frame, "See these bulging muscles? These powerful biceps?" he flexed his almost flat arm, "This menacing stare, making the toughest Vikings tremble in fear like aspens ? Check out the highly polished grin that makes every girl's legs go weak," he grinned with his horse teeth.

The girls sitting to his side squealed loudly in oestrogen-filled unison.

"Bad example," Hiccup quickly corrected himself, looking away from the staring group of admirers.

He had learned during the previous few weeks that, while his boyish imagination considered girls were supremely beautiful and gracious beings, there was however a very dark side to them.

One that was very possessive and did not stop at anything to get what they wanted: in this case, Hiccup.

Girls and women used their plentiful, female chests to press the innocent boy to the wall and attempt to flirt with him. He had to run away several times and find a hiding spot.

He had enough of thinking about girls, especially with the memory of Astrid carved into his mind in such a way he had to fight it before going to sleep.

Everyday.

Toothless had very quickly grown tired of his lack of focus and had constantly encouraged him to go and "have a female" as soon as he could.

The biggest relief in it all, were the nights when he was lulled to sleep by the draconic ball of light. This is what helped the most with clearing his mind and keeping his libido in check.

"I am not talking about physical strength, Hiccup," Fishlegs was now saying, with a warm smile.

"Of course you aren't," the overly concerned teen mumbled, taking a quick quaff of alcohol.

"Whatever you say, it still doesn't stop you from winning with every dragon. And your ability of commanding a team and motivating each of us to try to get near your level. People are right to glorify you. I would like to be as good as you are. I think everybody would want that," Fishlegs said naturally.

Hiccup clenched his teeth in anger.

He preferred solitude or the only company of one specific dragon just because of words like Fishlegs had just uttered.

He did not deserve any of these praises, not even one pat in the back or a cheer, especially coming from the more deserving of individuals.

Hiccup being a Viking model! Him inspiring people, perhaps even a new generation of future dragon slayers! Fishlegs's statement was so wrong that he did not even know how to respond.

Hiccup knew he was a cheater. He only got so far thanks to his tricks and his knowledge of dragons.

He hated fighting against the scaled kind that everybody else despised, which meant that not only did the others praise his counterfeit performances, but they also believed he was something that was not backed by reality: a highly motivated dragon slayer.

And this last statement, about how much his actions inspired more people to become better... better at killing dragons! The very thing he wanted to end.

It was past ironic, it was just wrong. He had to do something about it.

"Come with me for a sec'," he said hastily, patting Fishlegs on the shoulder. He left his seat and went outside, slaloming between standing people.

"Hiccup?" the tremendously large teen said with worry as they walked away from the Hall's entrance, moving from the insufferable blare.

"First, I do not deserve these praises**.** I do not like people talking about me in this way. I don't do anything special!" the smaller of the two said louder than he wished.

Although he did not care about it this time.

Fishlegs looked surprised- _really_ surprised- but controlled his face and let his friend talk.

Fishleg's open expression, as well as some sort of body language, made the one talking to him feel free to say whatever he wanted.

"What is so great in defeating a dragon? The villagers all act like it is everything that matters in this world... and most of us have never even been off of this island How do they know what really matters?"

Fishlegs listened carefully as Hiccup continued speaking.

"Is that great? Awesome? How can these acts of killing a dragon as cruelly as possible be so amazing? The villagers are not glorifying me, they are glorifying mindless violence and death!" he said aloud and almost laughed sarcastically.

Hiccup knew what he just said was a blasphemy against Berk's culture and ways**, ** and he stood before the probably only Viking who would listen to him talk this way without getting offended and furious.

Hiccup let out a breath and swiped a hand through his hair, "Have you ever felt like you do not fit in?" he asked, staring above Fishlegs, looking at the Gronkle skin nailed to the Hall's outer wall.

Fishlegs smiled cordially, "I have," he stated simply, looking down at his enormous palms, "I am big and everybody respects me just because of my size and says how fortunate I am to have such a body," he looked at Hiccup.

His unnaturally glistening eyes betrayed his condition. He had had a bit more to drink than usual, and it was what the worry worn and now haggard Hiccup counted on.

People might say the worst about alcohol, but it came very much in handy when discussing an irksome or difficult topic.

Fishlegs continued, "Whenever I played with my siblings as a child, I always wound up destroying something or hurting somebody. I did not want to wrestle with them anymore after I broke Gutspasm's arm. And I was_ only_ _seven years old!_" he said this as if he was surprised by it, "I could not hold anything without breaking it. I became an epitome of strength**, ** and I did not want to use it. Not against humans," his tone lowered and he leaned against the Hall's wall.

"You know why I want to fight dragons, Hiccup. It's not only because of the danger they represent to the village. It might also be that I am good at it," he said with a note of pride.

"Fishlegs, you like books. Above all, you like knowledge and... you _like_ dragons," Hiccup said, delicately hinting at the topic he wanted to raise.

"I do," the lightly intoxicated teen said plainly, "But that still does not change anything about why I fight them," he added, looking deeply into his friend's eyes.

Hiccup expected this answer. They had had a similar conversation to this already,and Fishlegs had a decent reasons to fight dragons. Actually, an even better one now, as he wanted to use his strength.

"You really don't make any sense," the powerfully built male stated bluntly, making Hiccup blink in incomprehension. "You tell me how people admire death and destruction and it is true. Yet, even if you disagree with it, you still are the best of us at defeating dragons! Undoubtedly**, ** you'll wind up being the one to fight with the Nightmare. Where is the logic in that?" Fishlegs asked, holding back a small burp.

Hiccup scratched his head. He should have expected such rational arguments from his teammate.

He could not tell Fishlegs that he was only winning in order to protect the dragons they fought with.

He could not tell that he knew so much about dragons thanks to Toothless.

There was not anything he could verbalise.

Even to his friend.

"I win because... because...," his brain raced, only for a space of a heartbeat and then a simple realisation hit him: one of those that waits patiently at the back of your head to simply appear at the right moment. And it was the right moment for Hiccup.

What exactly could he tell Fishlegs? What truthful assurance of his intentions could he provide? The truth? A glimpse of truth?

Hiccup was ready to risk it. He felt as if he could trust Fishlegs and perhaps try to convince him more about the dragons, about his reasons. He would absolutely do it...

...If he did not have somebody to protect.

Toothless had priority over his wishes and feelings. He could not risk Toothless' safety, not because of a hunch. The truth was that nobody in the village was ready to be shown the real face of the dragons. Not with so much to lose at stake.

"Ah, Fishlegs. I'm sorry. I am just frustrated and worried about the incoming matches. I am not sure what came over me," Hiccup said openly.

It was not a perfect truth. At first he had won by accident as he had concentrated on surviving the training than on anything else.

"I-I must be stressed," he said apologetically with another swipe through his reddish mane.

Fishlegs slapped a hand on each of Hiccup's shoulders with a satisfied smile," I'm happy you've admitted you're stressed out, 'Cup. The rest of us have talked about you more than a few times. Doing such great things must come with a price. Don't overwork yourself, please?"

Fishlegs gently shook his friend's thin frame to accent his words.

"Hey, shouldn't we go back inside?" Hiccup queried hushedly, staring at the large feet of his friend.

"There you are!" a bright voice called near them.

The boys turned to the Mead Hall's entrance and saw Tuffnut waving his hand frantically at them with Snotlout laughing croakily. Behind them Ruffnut strode, wielding a mug with one hand and**,** with the other**,** hugging Astrid**, ** who did not appear to be enjoying where she was heading.

"What's up mates? Are we disturbing your private moment?" the sword-wielding teen said jokingly as he approached.

"Yes, we were discussing how long it must have taken your mom to convince you to bathe," Hiccup shot back without hesitation.

Snotlout breathed out furiously as his more fragile relative continued to smirk condescendingly.

All of a sudden, the brutish youth grinned widely and slapped Hiccup hard across his back.

"Not bad**, ** Toothpick! But you won't bark that loud when we have our drinking match later!" he promised.

All the teens were gathered around now.

"What's the occasion?" Hiccup asked**,** seeing everybody had formed a circle.

"I thought-" Tuffnut stated proudly.

"We thought," his sister corrected him quickly.

"Whatever, well, it would be a good time for us to make a vow. Today is the last day we are a team. Next time we meet we will be enemies!" the blonde boy continued excitedly and placed his outstretched hand in the circle's centre. Snotlout wiped his nose and put his hand over Tuffnut's.

It was another of Berk's traditions that, in the ring, the participants had to fight fair. Outside the ring, however, such rules did not apply. The stories Gobber told them about fighters killing each other in duels and people dying mysterious deaths described very common situations. Everything was allowed if it gave you glory, in the end.

Fishlegs added his hand to the middle and Ruffnut jumped forward**,** pushing Astrid backwards with a deceiving smile. Astrid huffed and looked at Hiccup in front of her. Hiccup could have sworn that she looked afraid of something- most likely of touching somebody like him.

Hiccup attempted to smile and hesitated to put his hand down until the light-haired female twin scooped his hand quickly and placed it on hers with a wink and warm smile.

Astrid flicked her head and her face tightened. She added her hand last, using a stronger grip than she felt comfortable with to keep the weaker boy's hand to her.

"May the best win!" Snotlout yelled loudly, straightening his posture.

"May the best win!" Tuffnut copied, grinning and locking eyes with his childhood friend.

"May the best win!" Fishlegs bellowed, getting attention from a couple of people passing by.

"May the best win," Ruffnut said casually.

"May the best win!" Astrid said with dignity, staring deeply at Hiccup. Not menacingly, but with her usual competitiveness, before nodding. Hiccup was clearly invited to prove himself once more in the arena.

"May the best win," he said, the quietest of the sextet, enjoying the eye-contact as long as he could.

Then all of them broke the hand-chain with a booming yell and their fists shot into the sky.

Hiccup did not want the laughter that erupted to be the last one they shared together.

* * *

The three spear tips were directed at him as he read the book calmly. He flipped the page; the old paper whished quietly between his fingers.

The large table was stacked heavily with alien-looking items, pieces of metal and shreds of alloy. The javelins lay on a long table, inside a large ship-canteen under the deck.

A few crew members were leaving the room through the door to the left of the sitting man.

A few oil lanterns lit the room. They dangled along with the whole vessel as it moved on the docile waves.

Braedan smoked his pipe as if enjoying the moment of leisure. The impression was intensified by his posture with his legs propped up on the table top and leaning on the simple but sturdy chair.

The door opened almost silently and a man entered, closing it loudly behind him.

The captain turned a page, puffing out white smoke through his barely opened lips.

The man quickly glanced at the gathered items and snorted, walking to the table. He noisily pulled out a the chair and settled down on it with a loud sigh.

The rope-hung lantern dangled as the ship met another wave and his face came into view in the lantern's flickering light. He looked old, heavily wrinkled skin stretched on a thin face. His ever-tired eyes appeared pressed into the skull, framed by small, circular spectacles resting on a puffed, red nose. The hapless remains of his hair hung from the back of his head, greasy and ungroomed.

This appearance had misled many people before. Here was one of the most brilliant people Braedan had ever known and one of the few people he truly and honestly respected. And that was a feeling that he endowed almost no-one with.

The pipe-smoking merchant quickly closed the small book and put it aside. He removed his legs from the table and gazed with utmost interest at his sitting friend.

"Doctor. How is our guest?" he asked in his sonorous voice.

The balding man heaved, put his hand in his trouser pocket and, without any warning, he threw something at Braedan.

"See for yourself," the older one grumped in exotically accented English with the kind of hoarse and dry voice you only get with careful and methodical drinking through most of your life.

"Thank you, Radzik" the trader said warmly, putting the thrown item on the table.

It had the form of a flat triangle with three lifted tips on which stood three small lenses directed upwards.

Braedan moved his finger in a clockwise circle on the cool, polished surface**, ** and immediately the item's tips came to life, a subtle light shining through the lenses.

The image appeared, clear above the triangle and it looked like a grid-lined model of a human. It shrunk and moved into the right, upper corner as white text appeared beneath the hologram.

Radzik took off the spectacles off his nose and rubbed his eyes. He had every right to feel tired.

"Patient number 434. Display the physio... lymphatic system" he ordered intently**, ** and the human image changed into the one of a young girl, showing the organic structure as light-yellow veins.

Braedan narrowed his eyes.

"Display blood morphology," Radzik stated, not removing his palm from across his eyes.

The merchant peered at the table shown with grim eyes.

"Display toxicology," the doctor stated**, ** and another table appeared.

"I have seen such data before with every-" Braedan said seriously.

"Every corpse the Empire leaves behind, _kurwa..._ yes!" Radzik exclaimed irritably, taking a look at his peer and then hiding his eyes behind a hand again "We will get more information when the child wakes up; I had to put her in a coma to break her legs to reset them."

Braedan did not say anything.

"I will make it short. We do not know who she is, or where she is from. How she was treated however, her body can tell," he picked up one of the metal scraps from the table and chucked it negligently back.

"She had a relatively healthy childhood**;** no broken bones or chronic medical conditions. It all changed when she was around nine years old. It is obvious ...probable... that the Empire transport found her and abducted her. From what we deduced from the few corpses we have found, and saw on one of our older crew members, the people captured by them are used for some sorts of experiments or testing," Radzik thought for a moment, "I can't forget to include 'torturing for fun' as well. A very popular practise nowadays... that explains the way almost all of her injuries appeared at the same time. I can tell that she resisted and the practice to 'soften' her was the same as the one used on some prisoners I tended to when I was serving in Egypt. From what you have told me, there were some members of Black Scorpions involved. That would explain the methods used on her.

"Torturing a child. Where the fuck is this world is going, Braedan?" he asked rhetorically.

The merchant did not share his opinion about this problem.

Radzik looked at the weaponry lying on the table as if to distract himself from the subject and gathered up in both hands one of the three spears by its metal handle, wrapped in brown, leathery cord. "Quite heavy... It amazes me that people who were so high in the Empire's ranks did not know how to use it," he said, thinkingabout the ex Black Scorpions. They were the professional mercenaries whose remaining, last members had ended as a worshipers on the island Braedan had just investigated.

The rude elder gazed at it with an utter lack of interest and chucked the spear with difficulty to Braedan who caught it in mid-air single-handedly. The thin triangular blade the size of an adult man's arm immediately cleaved into halves, creating a narrow, longitudinal crack between them. The space filled with electric curves that moved in rapid waves, zooming quietly to the tip to disappear there**.**

"_Ż__a__ł__osna zabawka_," Radzik commented in his native language with a patronising huff.

The spear's tip closed with a metallic click and the room silenced again.

"Display skeletal system, tibia area before the treatment," Radzik said.

The device displayed the requested data," You can see clearly that her legs were broken before. She tried to escape apparently... the conditions she was in were worse than poor. Being raped did not help, of course. Regularly... and often brutally," he said impassively.

Braedan placed the ancient weapon back on the dusted desk with a sigh.

Both of them had already come across such people as the girl. Young girls that were kept alive only because of the fact that they were women.

"Her lymphatic system is almost non-functional**, ** and the chemical inside her bloodstream is still active... we should keep her under observation for a few more days and...," he hesitated about adding the last word.

"And under guard, yes," Braedan finished it for his friend as Radzik rubbed his eyes, not speaking.

"We do not know what we are dealing with here... It is hard for me as well," Braedan assured.

"What?" the physician's head jerked up, his brown eyes showing utter disbelief, "It is hard for you? This whole mess you have created is only your fault! You want me to tell you what is going on? You want information from me and yet you do not tell us anything. The younglings might be satisfied only with the journey and the adventure, but I am not an idiot!" he hit the table with his fist and the equipment pieces on the table clanged.

"These kids might be amazed with the technology you have here, but what can we really do here, huh?" he spat out, "I had to give medicaments to the little girl. The fancy ones. I had to anesthetise her, give her drugs to stabilise her, accelerate her bone regeneration... she had lice, fleas and intestine parasites and I used the last of all the drugs you provided. We are running out of everything," he complained loudly. which he did quite often**.**

"To my knowledge**, ** you did not have to use that many medicaments on her,as her life was not in immediate danger," Braedan reminded coldly.

Radzik snorted, "And if anything happened to her**, ** you would blame me, that I let the only living person that might tell us more about what the Empire is scheming die?" he drummed his fingers on the table, being sure that he had won the discussion.

"You're right. I apologise for my foolish comment," the trader said, as his interlocutor expected.

Radzik pattered the table nervously, and Braedan looked at the foreign words illuminating in front of him. Their talk was not finished yet.

"What will you do with Stoick now?" the balding doctor asked bluntly, still tapping the wood.

Braedan took off his eyes with difficulty from the small, red bar titled with the strange runes meaning 'unidentified'. The simple device they had could only list the main blood components; it could not distinguish anything beside them.

"Go to the Mainland do some business first," he said absent-mindedly, waving a finger through the hologram which then changed to the next image.

"Why?" Radzik queried, before noticing something on the table. He then grabbed a black leathery armour and looked impressed for the first time.

"I never let the opportunity to earn more money slip from my fingers," Braedan stated naturally.

The older man chuckled, "If you are such a great trader, why are you trying to sell me some crap just now? You promised Stoick to inform him immediately if you came across anything more about his wife's killer," he pointed his finger at the mysterious merchant, "And you are a person who always keeps promises. Which is the trait of a good businessman, if you ask me."

Braedan smiled in irony and then became serious again, "I made a mess on the Artefacts black market by killing one of the main buyers and destroying one of their hideouts. We should not attract too much attention at once" he spoke indifferently.

Radzik nodded to himself, "That's the problem with you. You go somewhere, kill somebody or destroy something, but nobody really knows how and why you are doing this," he paused, thinking, "Sometimes I need to remind myself why I should trust you."

"Why should you, then?" the dealer asked inquisitively.

"Before meeting you, I barely knew how to read," Radzik continued as if talking to himself, "You gave me the key to knowledge to save people's lives. Even if it only serves your interest, I try to believe that you will do some good for this world," he mused quietly and then he sprung up as if remembering something urgent, "I need to go back to our patient," he stopped to think again.

Braedan opened his mouth to say something.

"I will inform you when she wakes up," Radzik said before the trader could utter anything, "I also do not need the projector anymore. You can look at the scans," he said quickly and briskly walked to the door, once more answering Braedan before he could have formed a question.

The door shut loudly and one figure remained alone in the room under a cloud of white mist.

He took the displaying device into his hand and started reading. That girl was the key to finding more about the enemy's plans, he thought. Provided she had not been deliberately planted by the Empire to be picked by the one person who would be skilled enough to save her. And knowledgeable enough to know how much value she represented.

Two, small red points on the girl's upper neck, running along the spine**,** betrayed how important she was.

Thinking, he did not move for a long time until the cinder in his pipe burned out.

The projector hummed quietly with cross-sections view of the neck rotating slowly.

He would know what to do with their guest once she awoke. Through his mind, a thought slipped about Stoick and his promise to him. However, there were much bigger problems in this world than risking your life for an isolated and backward group of Vikings. The great irony was that those Vikings considered their dragon infestation as the most formidable one they could get.

* * *

There was nothing else he could think of to loosen the atmosphere.

He fed Toothless with his favourite fish, played with him for the whole afternoon and scratched him thoroughly.

He felt an even heavier weight on his heart after he realised that he would not be able to disclose the knowledge about the dragons to anyone. And that the only safe haven he would find was in a carefully built fortress made of lies.

It was only a matter of time before somebody realised what he was doing.

The stress of leading a double life, thinking about Toothless's condition, his dragon fighting team, his and the Fury's future, the actions of the Nadder, Astrid and even his father was taking a hold of him.

The closer he got to the main matches**, ** the more nervous he became.

Not telling the truth to his scaled friend about the real facts behind his last match with the Nadder did not help his psychical condition.

When the wiggling dragon was on his back exposing his belly and groaning in bliss, his eyes closed, the boy decided it was time for action.

"Toothless?" he asked his powerful friend. The dark mass rotated itself and two, green orbs rested on the young human with their usual, penetrating intensity.

Hiccup used to be scared of those eyes, even after he was sure that Toothless would not lay his fangs on him. There saw through him, his feelings and motives. It had once been a big deal between them.

The Fury would realise his feelings faster and comfort him or scold him accordingly**, ** as he was bad at talking about difficult things.

_Used to_, because after the 'accident', Toothless did not seem to be himself. He was still the same playful, energetic, tender and always welcoming friend. However, there was no sign left of the dragon's previous perceptiveness towards his smaller counterpart.

"Y-you remember that fight with the Nadder, a f-few weeks back?"Hiccup spoke unconfidently, feeling heat on his face from nervousness and cold shivers on his back from fear.

Interesting feeling.

Toothless nodded**, **and his eyes constricted as the topic that was put forward was not his favourite.

"Well, I forgot to tell you that... that...," Hiccup found himself unable to speak as the big, oval head loomed over him, "That...I am really grateful for what you are doing for me, thank you," he said quickly, but honestly. He had not thanked Toothless yet.

The dragon acted as expected. He snorted and relaxed, never interested in Hiccup's acknowledgement.

The youth breathed out silently as the dragon trotted away to his favourite rock to catch the last rays of the day's sun.

Hiccup had one more thing to try. He was almost sure of his deduction and, with it, he would save everybody. Playing the hero was not the thing he wanted to do. The dragon training had helped him find out that although being a hero was a good thing to imagine, in reality heroes were the ones that died the soonest.

If he could help it, he would already be flying with Toothless above the clouds if not for the dragon not having full control of his wing. Toothless assured Hiccup, though, that it was only a matter of a very short time before they would be able to test the harness.

...If there was anything left of the increasingly worn down and stressed out Hiccup to test it.

* * *

It was as dark and scary as desirable. Hiccup carefully tied a rope to the chain and slid down on it. The Ring was empty, as it should be deep in the middle of the night. There was no need to put guards around it.

Hiccup's boots touched the dimmed floor. Every movement he made seemed to be too loud in that eerily silent place. There were no sounds of any dragon moving, groaning or hissing. The mayhem caused by the beasts would cause too much attention. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, emptying his mind, exactly the way Toothless would do.

He stepped to the lever handle**,** not trying to muffle his steps.

None of his senses could register any sign of agitation from the detained dragons.

However, he had that inner feeling of fright, rising in his mind as his hand grabbed the lever's handle next to the door.

He tried to ignore the paralysing fear he had of the thing lurking behind the shaded door.

He pulled the contraption. The chains clanged as the door-lock was released. Things became ear-splitting loud for a moment before falling back into heavy silence.

As the doors opened with a creak, Hiccup took a few steps back...

Shadows crept out from the door, taking away the scraps of light. At least that is the way his mind registered the details**,** as his self-preservation screamed in protest.

And then, all this dreadful sensation stopped as if it all had just been a dream. The doors opened completely. Behind them was a wall of darkness. A quiet squawk sounded and a white horn came forth from the shadows.

This yellow eye almost seemed to glow in the night as it observed the human standing stupidly, as if it were ready to end up as a meal in the very next instant.

The Nadder moved closer, walking goofily the way a chicken would, and strolled to the side, keeping its eye locked on the boy. Not seeing any reaction, the dragon stretched its neck and flapped its wings.

"Please do not kill any of my friends," Hiccup said loudly.

Unnecessarily loudly. Even if he had whispered, his voice would have been perfectly carried around the arena. Not to mention the spiked-tailed creature would have heard it nevertheless.

A black, slit pupil landed on him with a brief interest, its owner then turned away and preened its wing's membrane.

Ostentatiously ignoring the red-headed mammal.

But this very lack of reaction confirmed a few things Hiccup had suspected and that he was now sure of.

He ran in front of the dragon who seemed fully absorbed in getting rid of one particular scale of its wing, making sure he was in a secure range from the tail. Which was absolutely vain and completely unnecessary. If the Nadder had wanted him dead, he would already be. Period.

Once more, the dragon honoured him by watching him periodically and the boy bowed before it.

Head down and body low, he reproduced the greeting exactly the way Toothless had taught him, his finger circling in the air. He stayed low, his eyes looking at the ground, kneeling on one leg.

He could feel the dragon look at him. Whatever he did, the imprisoned beast did not like it. He was not being attacked. At least, the blue-scaled creature did not let it be known in any visible way.

How did Hiccup know it, then? Very simply. During the fight, he inexplicably had felt the dragon's intentions as a chilling breeze, numbing his mind and sipping away his strength. He was being hated.

And his act just now made this sensation appear once more.

He had suspected it before. He had had a lot of time to think after the fight, to analyse what had happened.

Ironically, most of the answers he received, he did not acquire through a thinking process. They rather appeared as if conjured by situations he would never have expected.

Hiccup heard the Nadder trundle away from him.

The boy would not let the chance slip away from him to ensure his team's survival.

He sprinted and bowed, showing his deference.

This time the dragon hissed in warning. Hiccup groaned as the pressure on his mind strengthened. He did not expect the pain. Well, he had not anticipated most of the things that had happened since he downed Toothless. He could still run away from this current situation and hope for the best.

The agile creature stopped hissing and the force around the boy's brain vanished. Hiccup raised his head to face the Nadder.

The dragon was looking at him with curiosity. A horned muzzle approached Hiccup, who did everything he could to keep still and to try not to run away. He could feel a waft of warm air on the side of his face and he could sense the odour of a dragon body that had not been washed or cleaned in a very long time. The dragon could not take care of itself the way Toothless did.

The Nadder kept looking at him as its nostrils took a big fill of the air close to Hiccup. The boy waited to have his personal space back.

Nothing like that happened. The dragon had different plans. It kept gazing at the human from the close space.

The teen had what he wanted; the beast's attention. He would not squander his chance.

"H-hello?" Hiccup said unsurely and smiled sheepishly.

The Nadder looked back, motionless as a statue, head turned and only its eye betraying any signs of life, glistening brightly.

"Look," Hiccup said diplomatically**,** sitting up," I know that you can understand me**, ** and I know you are much more intelligent than most of the Vikings credit you to be," he inserted a bit of blunt flattery to muster a positivereaction.

He did not get one. It was irrelevant anyway.

He grasped the tips of his forelock in front of his eyes.

Hiccup looked straight into the black pupil fixed on him.

That eye called to him. He was being hypnotised. He was aware of this sensation overtaking his body. He felt that, whatever the dragon wanted, he would go with it.

The seemingly still pupil trembled,or maybe was it his legs shaking? Or perhaps the whole earth trilled as the eye grew and soon filled his whole view**?**

His skull felt as if in a vice**, ** and a ringing tone filled his ears.

"Time to go...", Hiccup thought, falling into darkness as his eyes lost their light.

When in such a state, he usually had dreams. Some pleasant**,** like that one of him and Toothless looking at the sun from that mysterious grey beach. Or nightmares. Like one he remembered vividly. He was in a cave and something dripped on his head. Something sticky and sweet and red.

He did not wonder twice about what was happening to him. Nor**, **if it was safe.

Or what he was becoming.

Sometimes he did not feel like being himself at all anymore, anyway. After he had lost his dream of being a dragon killer and he had had to face his real self, his personality had become mutable. Where was he going? Where would this road lead him?

His head hurt. The air became a choking mass of smoke**,** and the air waved with heat.

Astrid kneeled, holding her cut garment over her bare breasts with a palm as pale as her face, groping for her broken axe. A hard wing swung in an instant, striking her neck.

Hiccup's rage boiled.

With a mad cry, he nabbed the spear from the ground and rushed at his enemy. He aimed to kill, for his sharp blade to pierce through the scaled hide and penetrate the beast's heart. He would have done it.

And ... then... he _actually _did it!

His consciousness faded as the tip slid into the flesh with an ease he did not expect.

The Nadder rattled and blood flooded out from its throat with its last exhalation, splattering on the stony floor, creating a few puddles. The animal's massive and despised bulk slowly fell to the side**,** like a sinking ship**, ** to end up loudly clashing on a part of the labyrinth, shattering the wood.

The spear escaped his hands, dropping along with the body it had just killed.

Hiccup had just killed.

He saw the blood pool expand from beneath the dragon's corpse, its dead eye looking at the sky.

Hiccup's breathing quickened as his mind absorbed what he had just done.

_No... I hate violence. I hate death... I never would have... _

"T-that's not my fault...I did not mean it," he told himself, looking at his soiled hands, "I just wanted to protect everybody," he said faintly, feeling weak and sick.

He did it. He had just killed a dragon because he _wanted_ to. In that instant he had _wanted_ to end the Nadder's life. And**,** at this moment, he had just become one of them. One of everybody else on Berk.

"It's not me! I don't want to hurt anyone!" he yelled to the scaled remains.

He clenched his fists as jagged pain made him grasp at the side of his head.

He heard the sharp cling from his latest invention-contraption and the swooshing of a released rope. He looked up instantly, his eyes widened in shock.

His bola was whistling through the starred sky, seeking its target.

It was the bola contraption- the Mangler- he had designed with careful and industrious premeditation. Designed to maim, to kill, to destroy.

He only managed to raise his hand in a futile gesture of denegation at the disappearing net-trap as it hit its target**,** and the night filled with an echoing sharp, painful shriek.

"No!" he screamed.

"Did anybody see that?" his voice automatically echoed, prideful and craving for attention.

"...I did this**,**" he said to himself**. **

He turned back, knowing what he would see. Knowing, and yet not at all surprised when the situation had suddenly changed.

So, he did not make any move to avoid the Nightmare's opened maw as needle-sharp teeth bit into his body, completely shattering it.

He was the one now lying on the Ring's ground, listening intently to the agony he felt as the fangs thrust through him.

Still, he managed to slowly rise to his feet strangely unhurt and looked at the dragon in front of him.

"Why did you show this to me?" he inquired angrily. "Why?" he exploded, making a step forward.

The dragon did not answer, how could it?

Did he expect to hear a voice in his head? Or for the dragon to draw on the ground -or on the Kill Ring stones in this case- with its sharp claws?

Yes. He did.

The Nadder laughed in a rumble and breathed out a flame that sloshed through the ground as liquid glass and travelled towards the boy.

Whether or not he was still under the effect of the dragon's technique, Hiccup did not care.

The fire formed a pool, sizzling in bright yellow, and empty spaces appeared on its surface, shaping words.

So that scaled chicken knew how to write in Norse after al**l!**

I DID NOT SHOW YOU ANYTHING

"Then who did? Me?" Hiccup said sarcastically.

INDEED**, **The Nadder admitted, looking amused, as the holes in the fire switched**,** creating this word.

Hiccup snorted, losing his patience.

"Why did you show this to me?" he shouted, loudly.

The scaled lip curled, the smile widening.

SHOW YOU WHAT?

"Me killing you, me downing Toothless... Stop toying with me!" Hiccup called out.

_"TOOTHLESS"_?

A tawdry snigger resounded from the jeering creature. It laughed hard, and when it finally finished, its tail was waggling from side to side.

I WILL TELL YOU, YOU ARROGANT WEAKLING

The insult did not help the boy keep his cool.

YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SHOWED ALL OF "THIS" TO YOURSELF. I CAN TELL WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING AT YOU**, ** THAT YOU ARE FULL OF COMPLEXES. A LOST YOUNGLING WITH A NOT FULLY BALANCED BRAIN. YOU SEEM TO DREAM OF PEACE. TO PROTECT EVERYBODY WITHOUT LOSING ANYONE. TO STAY NEUTRAL.

Hiccup's head hurt again as the Nadder's expression grew furious.

STOP DREAMING! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE WORLD. NOTHING ABOUT DRAGONS, AND**,** MOST DESPICABLY**,** YOU DO NOT KNOW YOURSELF.

The creature growled deeply. The teen remembered that Toothless had told ...well, _written_ him the same thing. Not knowing much about himself.

Before letting himself be hypnotised, he pondered about his personality and how he had changed.

Perhaps the Nadder _was_ telling him the truth. He really did show to himself what he was the most afraid of. Things he refused to admit to himself. Still, that was not the reason to give up on the main purpose of his visit here.

"I know that I am not perfect. Yes, I have my share of personal problems**,** and you might look at me as somebody naive**,** and it might look that way to you, but this is what I believe in," he stated to the dragon courageously.

"You want me to think that I am only a foolish and stupid human? Well, yeah, after I discovered the other side to the dragons**,** I also feel that way about myself. However, let me ask you this," Hiccup acknowledged disdainfully**,** "Who are _you_? A dragon with a p/ower and a strength unknown to any Viking. So what is keeping _you_ here, huh?" he sneered, "

puny chains above?"

Hiccup gestured to the metallic ceiling, "You could destroy them with only one of your quills. Or maybe the cage doors?" the Viking youth pointed at the beast's pit, "One kick and you would be free! I may be naive**,** but I am not an idiot. So, what is keeping a powerful warrior like you here? Trapped, fed, downed and stinking like a rotten bone!" Hiccup said, embodying everything that he blamed in himself with when he looked at Toothless.

He finished his tirade with an insult the Fury taught him, the one about rotten bones.

It worked perfectly**,** as the Nadder roared and charged forward. Hiccup then used his last resort; he took out a dagger from behind his vest and put it to his own throat.

The dragon immediately stopped its attack.

"I have a theory. It took me a long time to get the simplest answer possible," Hiccup said and paused, enjoying his victory. "Dragons like you do not want us to die. I do not care why you are here and what you want. I only want you not to hurt all of us."

He had to admit the Nadder was a master in controlling his reactions. The muscles on its sleek neck played as the dragon stretched it.

INTERESTING THEORY. ALTHOUGH YOU ARE WRONG ON ONE POINT.

The boy did not like the smile that grew on the dragon's muzzle.

He did not like that dragon at all.

I DO NOT NEED _"ALL OF YOU"_ ALIVE.

That was not a point the boy would have considered.

Noticing the human's nervousness**, ** the Nadder tilted its head playfully.

I MIGHT BE SATISFIED WITH KILLING ONLY ONE OF YOU. WHOM SHOULD I PICK?

Hiccup's hair stood up as the beast pondered.

"MAYBE _YOU_ WOULD LIKE TO VOLUNTEER? TO SAVE EVERYBODY? IT WOULD BE AN IDEAL ENDING FOR YOU!

The youth hesitated for a brief moment. It did not escape the Nadder's attention.

SO**, **YOU ARE NOT SO ALTRUISTIC AFTER ALL.

The blue-scaled dragon laughed again.

Hiccup laughed in dry irony, "I have somebody to protect now**, ** and that's why I do not want to die. If this is selfishness to give my life for that somebody, then I am happy with that...," surprisingly for him it too him a very short time to put his mind together to utter the deal-sealing words," I-I will do it," he added without his usual courage, gulping down his nervousness.

The dragon slowly raised its tail and**, **with a loud and rapid click, a bone-quill rose up.

Hiccup accepted it stoically, lowering his dagger, attempting not to shake. Well, not too much, anyway.

_Truth be told_, he managed perfectly. He did not have time to think of anything as the dragon's tail cracked like a whip. As quick as a flash, it echoed and the projectile bored into the wall, meeting no resistance.

A small pad of auburn hair dropped to the ground.

And this was the only thing the quill destroyed.

Hiccup's hairdo.

The Nadder looked away as if something had appeared, far beyond the broad walls.

The aura of hostility was gone. There was only disappointment.

The glossy pool of orange fire continued to burn as several flames burst out of its surface, flicking momentarily.

I HATE YOU.

The words appeared. Hiccup saw them form in the fiery mass with a hushed hissing. The dragon did not look at him as it wrote its thoughts.

YOU SHOW YOUR MIND TO SOMEBODY YOU DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT AND LET HIM READ YOU. YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AND YOU ARE READY TO THROW AWAY THE MOST VALUABLE THING TO YOU.

The scaled body positioned itself,lying on the ground, and the horned head curled within its tail, hiding behind its wing.

YOU WERE READY TO DIE WHEN ASKED. DOING IT SELFISHLY FOR YOURSELF, JUST TO FEEL THAT YOU MOVE FORWARD. YOU SAY YOU WANT TO PROTECT, YET YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF THIS WORD. YOU KNOW YOU ARE TOO WEAK TO DO THIS ALONE, YET YOU DO NOT ASK FOR HELP. YOU WOULD HAVE THROWN AWAY YOUR LIFE FOR NOTHING. YOU HAD NO PROOF WHETHER YOUR THEORY WAS RIGHT OR IF I WAS EVEN SPEAKING THE TRUTH.

Hiccup only gazed, silent**, ** and without any retort.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU MAKE ME... TIRED. YOU DO NOT DESERVE THE POWER AND AFFECTION OF THE ONE YOU CALL _TOOTHLESS_. YOU NEVER WILL. YOU DESIRE TO CHARGE BLINDLY INTO FIRE**, ** ONLY TO MAKE YOURSELF FEEL LESS GUILTY ABOUT YOUR PAST. AND THIS WILL BE YOUR DOWNFALL.

The massive chest rose and then fell, letting out a drowsy breath.

IF IT DEPENDED ON ME**, ** YOU WOULD BE DEAD. BUT DON'T WORRY. YOU WILL HAVE YOUR CHANCE TO BE A HERO.

The dragon now breathed slowly and regularly.

I WILL NOT HARM ANYONE AS LONG AS YOU PLAY BY THE RULES... NOW**, ** GO AND DON'T COME BACK WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT TO DO. OR I _WILL_ END YOUR LIFE.

The rooster's cry announced the new morning. Hiccup sluggishly opened his eyes, not having any strength to wake up. His covers felt heavier than usual. Cheery ruckus resounded outside his house, the real world not involving him. He was being sucked in another world, one unknown to anyone except for him.

So it had all been a dream, he thought, rolling on one side, his bed squeaking.

Hesitantly, he touched the side of his head, checking his hair. It was fine. He looked to his left, at the desk**,** and saw his dagger, lying along with the curled up rope.

Whatever was real or not, he remembered his visions**,** and remembered every word the Nadder told him. Even heavier than the covers, he felt the crushing weight of his rash decision. How close he had been to losing everything. On a quick supposition, he had based everything. And fated other's lives.

In shame, he put hand to his eyes.

"I am so screwed up," he told himself.

* * *

Toothless's life became problem free.

Whenever he met his clanmate, he felt happy and fulfilled. Nothing brought him that much joy in his life**, ** and he meant it.

One of the slight little problems he still had left was flying again.

When he announced that he had recovered full control over his wings and that they could try Hiccup's invention without killing themselves, this was received with a giant grin and joyous laugh from the small youth.

To hear such a sound was so rare. The boy then almost immediately put his wrinkled, worried face back on.

Toothless had his body back, but his mind was not his dominium yet.

He dearly missed the presence of Hiccup's feelings and how the way they used to communicate enchanted him before he had shut off the connection. He had became dependant on Hiccup. The boy had made him enjoy life once more.

He replaced the lack of psychic connection, instead, with physical contact to the point where the youth had to push him away and flee from his desirous embrace.

Life was good.

Almost complete fulfilment now was reached as he soared above the ground, attached by a rope to the dowel mounted into the same windy outcrop in front of the ocean. It was the same limitless ocean and coast they had visited after Toothless had gotten out of the cove for the first time since he had been downed.

The gusty breeze whistled between his teeth as the dragon barely soared above the ground. Hiccup was doing more 'testing', sitting on his back silently and moving the leathery tail-fin and dribbling with something, moving the contraption.

Sometimes they had to wait for the wind to start blowing again. Then Hiccup would get off his back and sit at the edge of the cliff, looking at the ocean. Toothless would lay behind him, his tail curling around the boy's waist, making sure he would not fall down. A very silly and very overprotective reaction.

Was there still a proud, solitary being left in him?

The 'testing' continued and would have continued if not for the rope keeping Toothless in a stationary-gliding position.

It had chosen an excellent moment to snap**, **just after one of the strongest blows of wind of the afternoon. The always alert Fury rotated his body at the last moment to send Hiccup off the saddle. The youth slammed against a nearby tree trunk a split instant later.

Toothless shook his head, stood up, and noticed Hiccup hanging from the thread attaching him to the saddle like a spider from a cobweb.

"Thanks, bud," the dangling youth said, catching the ground. The dragon leaned lower on his legs to make it easier for the tail-fin operator to access the saddle.

Toothless, standing fully upright**, **was almost two times taller at the head than Hiccup.

"Just great..." the Fury heard this usual statement of Hiccup's which meant that something was not going according to the plan... even if Toothless thought it was going great.

"Looks like we are stuck together... for good," Hiccup stated ironically**,** studying the cause of the problem.

The jutted, overhanging hook on which he had attached the iron ending of the rope that kept him secured on the saddle had been smashed when they hit the tree. Which had squashed the hook's tip into the leather surface, closing the circle shut.

"All right, I have good news and bad news," Hiccup informed the Fury after they tried to burn the cord using the dragon's fire. Unfortunately, the Fury's neck was too short to reach the target. This ended up with the fire-breather circling futilely after the unreachable cord as if he chased after his tail. Hiccup, dragged along, was forced to participate in this pursuit.

Toothless's air-antenna twitched as a sign that he was listening to the new idea.

"The bad news is that I took all of my tools back to the forge because Gobber asked about them. And the only way to unhook me is to go to the village and get the tools... Which now leads us to the _good_ news!" he said with a pretended bright voice, and pondered for a moment, "Uh...Nope, that's it! ...Only bad news!" He sighed. "Life is great," he finished dryly.

Toothless entirely agreed with him. Indeed, life was great!

He would go to the place where his boy lived, see where he spent his day**, **s and perhaps even see human people living there!

Finally something that would break his routine. Not like he complained about the daily, mandatory scratching.

Hiccup decided to wait for the night to come before going there.

A good choice. He leaned against Toothless's leg as the Fury lay, devouring grass. The dragon had already cleaned the patch in front of him. ...Apparently, Night Furies liked nibbling on grass every once in a while.

The darkness came**,** and it was time to move. When Toothless growled and stood still, Hiccup 'decided' to ride. He could not keep up the pace walking alongside the dragon.

Being all stealthy and extra cautious was going fine, mostly thanks to the Fury, even if he only narrowly avoided one kissing pair of humans.

Hiccup had to pull Toothless to move as the Fury watched the scene, tilting his head, pulling out his tongue and twisting it in many weird shapes to mimic the details of his observations.

It was at that moment that the teen pulled extra hard. The inquisitive beast groaned quietly. Really, there was no appreciation of his desire to learn, here**!**

When they got closer, the petite biped jumped off. Almost everybody was sleeping, getting ready for another busy day.

Hiccup emerged from a corner, leaning against a house wall with his arms crossed**,** as if he was enjoying gazing at the stars. He waited for the watchguard to pass.

Toothless was doing his job perfectly, silently leaning into the shadows behind and admiring the building's wall with giant eyes. After a moment of pondering, he bit the wood inquiringly.

"Hiccup," the hulky, torch-holding sentinel greeted with a respectful nod.

Hiccup grinned his broadest toothy grin and shook his hand innocently in reply. Right after the Viking disappeared**, ** he pulled the dragon's lead with a focused look on his face.

"Come on Toothless...stop licking everything!" the boy scolded softly, looking around quickly.

The dragon snorted quietly, not understanding this stressed behaviour. In his opinion, this little close-up tour of human dwellings made him enthusiastic and eager to learn more.

Hiccup should know Toothless had everything under control. For him, sneaking was as a second nature. As long as he was around, the pup was safe; and since they _had to _be together because of the saddle-cord mess, then Hiccup _had to_ be safe.

Perfect logic.

"Almost there...," the teen sung to himself.

They were surely close to the forge**,** and soon Hiccup entered the structure by the back door.

Toothless seemed to enjoy himself by touching, prodding and playing with everything around him. He sent a bucket flying with his teeth. It clanked loudly as it dropped.

Hiccup swooped the first visible hammer and tried to free himself, when he heard a voice that belonged to the very first person he would have wanted to see at night. Had he been alone in his large bed and not accompanied by a large, deadly, and obnoxiously curious Night Fury, that is.

"Anyone there?" Astrid's voice came from outside the smithy. Without much thinking, Hiccup grabbed his apron and hastily put it on without tying it on his back and jumped out from the window used to hand out weapons to the warriors in times of raids.

It was right above the ground so he did not have to worry about his clumsy landing. And, he was secured by a rope as well.

Lucky him.

"Astrid! Hi Astrid...hi Astrid...," he breathed out hastily, putting on his charming horse-grin.

The warrior maiden did not react to such a plentiful smile**,** as she had just finished her grueling evening training session.

Nevertheless, meeting the only boy who made her feel... uncomfortable... in a way she did not wish, put her off track.

The one thing she could not overlook, however, was the youth's unusual behaviour and elusive demeanour. She could see that Hiccup was physically growing stronger and becoming more agile, but were these small developments enough to be able to defeat every dragon single-handedly?

No.

She had no doubt that there was something else: something shady.

"You're acting weird," Astrid managed to speak, grimacing.

Toothless did not listen to his clanmate's conversation**, ** as he now had spotted a tasty-looking sheep nibbling the grass. The sheep's name was Pinky**, ** and he would survive looking into creeping dragon's eyes.

Outside, Hiccup giggled in answer, as he was pulled back into the window by the tense rope. His mounted artificial grin certainly did not help him look healthy in the head.

"Well, weird-er!" Astrid stated, leaning backwards.

Hiccup only uttered a charming and hastened "Tee-he" when he was sucked into the window. The shutters slammed behind him,and it was the last of him the competitive female warrior saw for the rest of the night.

Hiccup jumped onto Toothless's back agilely.

"Quick bud, do something!" he said desperately.

The iridescent-scaled dragon could make out the nervousness in his clanmate's voice and could hear somebody trying to enter the building through the window.

Grunting in irritation, as he had to turn away from his fluffy meal, he jumped lightning-fast through the back door they had used to enter. Safely on higher ground, now, Toothless jumped, unfolding his wings,and shortly soared to the nearest house roof.

It was the fastest escape from the village Hiccup ever managed. He had quite a few spectacular, loud escaped on his account, but never one with a dragon.

It only took a few jumps from building to building for the dragon to get to the forest line. They continued their crazy gallop**,** now on the ground**, **not stopping for anything or anyone. This was the way Hiccup wanted it to be, at least.

Alas, Toothless suddenly braked and then took a few steps back to look above the bushes.

"Oh boy," Hiccup said quietly, blushing furiously.

The Fury tilted his head**, **and his head continued cocking until it was almost upside down.

The boy did not see anything, but he did hear gasping and moaning that made him believe that the pair had not left it at kissing.

Hiccup had to pull the ear-antenna really hard to make his partner move back to the cove.

As they trotted away from the scene, further moans informed them several times of the name of the male lover.

* * *

"What was wrong with you? You acted like a brainless chicken, causing ruckus when I needed you to be extra-quiet!" Hiccup ranted, struggling with the hook, lifting it with a small hammer he had miraculously managed to keep gripping in his hand as they escaped.

Toothless did not comment, acting problem-free. Which was how he felt. _He_ had everything under control and the boy was acting... strange.

"I almost got caught! By Astrid!" he said loudly and groaned,as the piece of iron was harder to straighten back than he thought

"You think I do not have any problems besides keeping you at check! A-ha!" Hiccup shouted victoriously when he managed to get himself free. However, it was at the precise moment Toothless chose to shake his rider off. Hiccup crashed on the ground and immediately got up.

"What_ is_ your problem?" he bellowed at the Night Fury**, ** who peered at him with slit pupils.

Without answering, the nimble predator trotted away to the fire-stone and lit it up with his fire.

Hiccup breathed in deeply with anger. He did not like being ignored.

All the stress he had felt for the previous few weeks, and especially after meeting with the Nadder,made him easy to irk.

"I am the one risking my life here and you treat it as some kind of game!" he raged as he walked to the lighted up stone.

Toothless snorted, not taking the boy's words seriously.

Hiccup felt hurt for the lack of understanding. However, mostly, he was just pissed.

"Will you PLEASE listen to me?" he shouted, clenching his fists.

Toothless's ear flicked in displeasure at the loud noise. He studied the furious figure.

YOU NEED TO REST The dragon quickly wrote in the sandy soil. Around the rock, there was no grass left, only arid earth with plenty of words, fragments of former conversations. Toothless had already created his soothing lightning orb**, ** which hovered above the boy's head.

Hiccup now realized he could fear to his inner turmoil.

He had learned last night that a dragon's "influence" on his mind not only made him lose his sense of reality, but that it was also possible for a dragon to mentally control him.

He had awakened in his bed. And he did not remember going back home or closing the Nadder's cage. Yet it had happened.

He trusted Toothless**,** however, he was simply scared now. He did not want to feel so _vulnerable_ again, not so soon.

He looked instead at the mesmerising globe.

Great. Now his head hurt.

"No. I do not want to...," he said quietly at first.

He was on the verge of exploding. His overprotective friend chirped to get his attention back. Hiccup continued to stare up at the shining ball.

"I said _no_!" he dinned with as much power as he could.

At the same moment, the lightning ball fragmented and exploded in a bright flash.

The dragon whined**,** and his body wiggled in pain. Hiccup was not the only one with a headache, now.

"Oh Gods! Toothless, are you all right?" he asked stupidly.

Of course the Fury was not well**, ** and the youth felt that it was something he had caused. He rushed to his fallen ally**, ** grabbing his head and raising it with difficulty.

"Toothless, talk to me!" he said, looking at the closed, dark eyelids illuminated by the orange glow of the fire.

The recumbent Fury opened his eyes, stretched out a front paw, and scribbled something in the claw-abused ground. He wore an unexpected smirk.

HOW DID YOU DO THAT?

"Oh... that?" Hiccup asked in pretended disbelief.

Something told him exactly what he had done.

And also that the quite dangerous blue-scaled parrot had something to do with it. The Nadder had done something to him or to his mind. He could not tell as he did not know much about dragons and their magic.

DESTROYED MY STAR. HOW YOU CAN USE MAGIC?

Toothless queried, grinning with pride.

Hiccup sighed and said, ruffling his hair, "Toothless, there is something we need to talk about."

* * *

Silly story time. This one is dedicated to the troll I have spotted under one of the Antic Repartee drawings.

"Move et,blokes! We have trolls t' hunt!" Fang shouted briskly in a poorly executed Polish-Australian accent, marching in his opened, flapping lab coat he wore on every excursion.

Alongside him, Kropka trotted with a large hiking knapsack on her back and a yellow bandana tied around her head. She did not look happy. This might have been connected with Toothless constantly following her around since he and Hiccup had been hired on this expedition as helpers. They meant Toothless and Hiccup.

"Why are we here**, ** again?" the scrawny boy asked himself grumpily. Sometimes he had a long monologues with himself.

Well, nobody is normal. However, Hiccup was one of those few who do not even pretend that he was even remotely normal," Oh yes I know why! Because some useless reptile- and I stress- strongly USELESS, made me lose my job because one changling Fury wrote a formal complaint stating that I harassed him sexually!" he shouted, glaring daggers at the mentioned useless reptile.

Kropka sighed, hearing this for the fifth time. Toothless winked to her, ignoring his friend. However, he could not ignore however Hiccup's prosthetic foot now crushing his tail.

Hiccup regretted not wearing his flying leg prosthetic with the sharp metal end now. Instead**, ** he had the walking leg attachment with a sturdy boot. Still, it was enough to inflict some pain.

"And you stop harassing me**, ** as well! That hurt...," Toothless said painfully, sucking on his tail tip and doing the hurt, puppy eyes to the only female dragon in the vicinity. He tried to look charming. The female Night Fury sighed tiredly and exchanged looks with Fang.

"Don't fret now**, ** mates!" the partially weird biologist said," You're working naow for me! I needed helpers for this project I certainly need! Having such dags like you two only helps me mood!" he said with a super radiant smile.

Whatever he had drunk last night, it was still working.

Hiccup grumped a reply but kept walking, correcting the strap of his backpack. He could have been with Astrid now back at their house... but, well, the bills weren't going to pay themselves.

The expedition team had been out in the woods for a few days now and,if he liked anyone from his new group, that was Kropka. She had been quite distant at first, but always ready to talk and support him, seeming to understand how hard was it to live with an immature, problem-causing human/dragon.

From their talks**, ** he learned that she was quite old. How old it was impossible to tell**, ** as dragons did not age noticeably after a certain point of their life cycle. Her name was Polish for Dot and it was because she had a white-ish spot on her forehead, now concealed by the yellow bandana.

"Hush up**, ** maties!"Fang said suddenly, and he turned to the others with an excited face," Here we are... the habitat where we can witness a rare...troll!"

His voice became more high pitched, indicating his excitement.

Yes, they were hunting for trolls! Hiccup had some expertise in troll hunting (at least according to the way his father complained about how much he had done it in his childhood when he and Dad were supposed to be fishing.) However, Hiccup never actually had witnessed one.

Today, they were not hunting for just any troll, but for an elusive internet troll. As Fang the biologist explained, Internet trolls (Troglodyta Contumeliosus) were rarely glimpsed in their native habitat. They were elusive creatures who preferred the security of their own bolt-holes except for occasional hunting and gathering forays. However reclusive, they were said to be very aggressive at times, engaging in curious behaviors like stalking and insulting selected prey-targets with idiotic and thoughtless comments; however, they tended to do this when being sheltered and anonymous, tossing their verbal barbs from their small, dank caves.

The group stalked quietly towards the bush. Without any warning Fang jumped forward, shouting like a maniac, his white coat floating behind him. The bush danced and the dumbfounded dragons and Hiccup heard gasps and excited voice of their young expedition leader.

"Oh, watch how it bites. My, it really can defend itself with those sharp teeth and words!"

"Should I shoot?" Toothless asked.

"Just wait," Kropka ordered, not doing anything to help the fighting man. She yawned and licked her nose.

After another gasp, Fang emerged from the bush, his coat in shreds, (his face scratched?) and his arms in a nelson lock around an...average in appearance and unattractive teenage girl.

"I thought we were hunting for trolls," Hiccup reminded dryly.

"This_ is_ a troll! An Internet troll!" Fang said, looking hurt," Now! I hired you for just this purpose**,** my pleasantly groomed fellows. Observe...," the dark haired zoologist released the troll, who tried to flee**, ** but Kropka moved in a blur in front of her. For a dragon with a slightly lighter build than Toothless and carrying more baggage on her back,she moved fast.

The zoologist, whistling took out from his inner pocket a small scroll.

Here**, ** trolly! Look what I have ? Bait!" he chirped, unfolding the paper and giving it to the creature. On the paper was a drawing of a bemused Hiccup, lying on his back with a smiling, scantily dressed Ruffnut, sitting across his lap, showing him a tattoo on her hip.

"Hah!" Toothless exclaimed jeeringly," One of the better drawings of you! Still, not seeing a drawing of me in human form trying to mate with you is strange...," he mused.

"Shut. Up. Now," Hiccup said. He could not say any more since, at this moment**,** the Internet troll's face twisted in anger. She spat and hissed.

"Geez, geez, zheez hez! Lol, lol cheesss!" she said in an agonising voice, taking a bit of pizza out of her greasy hair and munching it.

"Oh, to calm herself she is eating! Interesting!" Fang chimed in, delighted by the opportunity to observe such a rare specimen," She is talking in an ancient Internese. Kropka would you mind translating? You know me and my memory...," he said with requesting smile, approaching her backpack and opening it. The female Fury rolled her eyes, but complied.

" The troll is saying that Ruffcup is the worst thing this earth has ever borne...the rest are swear words," she said calmly.

The troll looked at the drawing with squinted eyes, another small pizza piece grew out of her hair again , and the troll pulled it out and ate, munching loudly.

" I would like to ask what is RuffCup first, but," Hiccup said with wide eyes," How is the troll able to produce pizza out of her hair?" he asked, amazed.

"It is her skin," Fang said, suddenly as he took out a lab coat out of the backpack, identical to the previous one," She is able to shape-shift her body into the object she desires...similar to dragon changelings. Her original form is not as this one, more..clawy and bitey," he pointed at the tattered lab coat," Just tthink of it like when you biting your nail when you are nervous," he said with a smile.

"Lolllll squee nom nom nom heeez...omg!" the troll yelled and tore the drawing, hissing loudly.

After that the creature jumped forward and disappeared in the woods. The young zoologist stretched.

"Wasn't she a beauty?" he spoke joyfully, changing into his new lab coat. Everybody looked at him as if he was insane. Perhaps he was, "Let's go mates! We have few more weeks and much more to observe!"he said and marched on, whistling happily.

"So what is Ruffcup and what was it all about?" Hiccup asked Kropke, walking by her side.

"Nobody knows, young one," she said in a soothing tone," That's why they are trolls. We only know that they are angry, reacting mainly with threats and insults. To me, they not really happy," she said to the boy and smiled.

Toothless did not look as he enjoyed being treated like he was invisible.

"And I still do not know how the troll really looks," Hiccup sighed.

* * *

AN: About my long delay with publishing. I had the worst case of writer's block since I've started writing this fic. Tell me, of course, if my longer pause in writnig reflects in the style. Big thank you to **Fjord Mustang **and **Backroads** for beta-ing.

Also thank you to you, my faithful readers. Till next time.


	25. Drifting Apart

AN: Thank you to **Fjord Mustang **(again) for beta-reading this chapter.

One more reminder of a few dragon words.

Kathet- clan,closest family connected by blood. Means those who share destiny together.

Athet- family as well however, not connected by blood.

Scalgertar- the ancient name dragons used for humans. Means the Soul Giver.

Please reread previous chapters if you need to refresh your knowledge about the plot. Enjoy.

* * *

Hiccup felt comfortable, even with his legs crossed in a position which would make most people miserable just thinking about it. His life had taught him to tolerate many things and not to pout often. He only pouted after a sarcastic snort, and that was the big difference.

He pondered heavily about the way he had gotten used during the four previous weeks. He considered how to convey his emotions in the best, most diplomatic way that would both make his point clear but also not insult or hurt his interlocutor.

Unfortunately, Vikings had problems with diplomacy: for many, diplomacy was the signal to grab your weapon and hit the diplomat. This was what Hiccup thought; but he over-exaggerated. Sometimes.

Most of the time.

The Fury peered down at the inconspicuous youth, sitting on his hind legs, his stature only bearing pure curiousness about what Hiccup might say.

The small hand waved in one full circle, palm directed at the ground, with a feeble smile. Toothless did the same gesture with his right paw. This was a shorter version of the traditional greeting, only used between those who deeply trusted each other.

A fish splashed the water on the cove-pond, a fitting sound to start confessions.

"I am going to get straight to the point," Hiccup stated, looking directly at the Fury's enormous eyes, "As I have told you, my neck injury was caused by the Nadder. But it was not Snotlout who helped me," he said naturally, to a confused-looking dragon, "There was nobody there who could have helped me. We were all unconscious. It was the dragon itself who let me live. It was able to use magic," he said and took a quick breath.

Toothless snarled and got to his feet. His eyes were full of unexpected shock and terror, perhaps even disbelief.

Hiccup did not waste any moment, "The Nadder defeated us. _All_ of us, without any problems, and then made it look as if it was I who had defeated it. That's not everything," he said calmly.

Toothless made a quick pause in his raging and stared in utter incredulity as Hiccup continued.

"Yesterday... I met with the Nadder and tried to reason with it not to kill anyone in our next fight. Which will take place... in five days," he told the truth and waited for the dragon's ferocious reaction to pass.

Toothless breathed in again and showed his fangs, antenna-crown flat on the neck.

As a vicious growl escaped him, his front paw slammed the ground. He gazed with deadly energy at Hiccup's calm eyes and,with an uncanny effort, managed to calm his breathing, closing his eyes.

It looked as if the dragon was calming himself. However, some things had changed about the scrawny teen and, he was now discovering them. One of these things was a sudden ability to _perceive_ Toothless.

To _feel _him.

He could not capture this notion with words. It was as if instincts he was not aware of had come abruptly to life.

He _knew _that the Fury was close to attacking him,and yet he also _knew_ that he was safe. A part of him accepted the fact that the jet-black dragon could be a docile, huggable companion.

The sensation occurred in an instant and, even with the knowledge that he was about to get pounced upon, he did not have time to react. Inferiority of human reflexes got in the way of escaping. As he had dreaded, a powerful paw banged him on the chest. The air escaped his lungs as he crashed on the ground, the glow from the fire-rock shaded the dragon's features in orange.

The claws did not cut through his clothes, and the only thing that would be left from the strike was a bruise.

The only thing which did not augur well for his hopes of getting out of this situation unharmed, was Toothless using his magic to enhance his body so there was absolutely no way of getting out... as if he ever had a chance of doing so, even without the dragon resorting to his mysterious power.

He could sense his overwhelming fear more clearly now, which was the effect the magic had on him.

This fear now felt as if something solid in the air was pressing his body, penetrating his flesh with unforgiving coldness. It was all around him, and he _knew_ that Toothless was doing it on purpose. Toothless wanted to take control of his mind forcefully.

That was getting really bad! If the boy got hypnotised, the Fury would get full control of him and would be able to make him do anything.

Now that he was aware of how really powerful that ability was, he would do anything to avoid it.

Unfortunately, he did not always have all the answers and plans to manage getting himself out of every situation.

So he talked to his friend and hoped to resolve this situation somehow. It was what friends did. They solved problems together.

"And what are you going to do, now?" Hiccup said with a hint of anger, "Turn me into a mindless doll? I remember waking up after those _sessions_ with you with a few bruises, hurting muscles, and I noticed a few fresh scars on your body...you were not healing me, were you?" he asked dryly. Yes, he had lied to Toothless and deserved his anger and maybe a hard beating. But what the dragon was about to do was not a thing friends did to each other.

The fanged jaws opened and a small orb fled out from the inside and positioned itself right in front of Hiccup's eyes. Its sinister aura made it impossible for him to look away or close his eyes.

"Toothless," the boy said calmly, "If you do it, then it means that you do not really care about my well-being. Your actions may arise from your desire to protect me, but you won't achieve that by taking away my freedom," his hand burst up and grabbed a dark-scaled leg, "Don't do it Toothless... don't betray my trust in you," he whispered it with all the determination he had, looking directly into these cold, expressionless magic-changed eyes.

The dragon hesitated. His leg where Hiccup's hand gripped it trembled, and he paused. Then, the same way it had happened so many times before, the lightning globe flared with a bright light, and the small hand slid down his scales.

Toothless had chosen.

* * *

The emotions did not leave him, and he did not want them to disappear.

Toothless _wanted _to be wrathful and unforgiving. As much as possible. He released Hiccup's body, captured under his command now. He started pacing from side to side. His pupils had dilated back to his natural slits, and his chest moved hastily with deep breaths.

He _wanted_ to be angry as possible.

Anything to cover the mind-shattering fear he felt.

Scalgertar said that _Toothless _betrayed him? It was _Hiccup_ who had betrayed _him_! How could he not inform the dragon about such danger he was in? How could he not inform Toothless of his intentions to put himself in danger beforehand? ...Meeting with a dragon that used mind-control! And, from what he heard from the scrawny youth, the Nadder was an adept in it.

The thought of losing Hiccup had never been so real, so tangible, as it now was.

He had been so careless! He should _never_ have let the pup do this! He looked at the petite and fragile form of his clanmate.

A mad grin rose to his muzzle and his ears shot up.

Everything would be all right now. He would make Hiccup stay here, with him. There would be no more danger. He would make sure of that.

He stepped forward, pressing the side of his head possessively to the small chest and closed his eyes, inhaling the boy's scent.

Hiccup did not understand what it meant to be alone for so long and then to suddenly find happiness again.

Toothless did not want to be alone again. It was too... frightening.

He closed his eyes and listened to the teen's slowing breathing and heartbeat. The future did not exist; there was only here and now.

The dragon did not relish this state for long. Something struck him hard at the side of his skull with the power of a falling rock.

A second hit crushed below his jaw, making his teeth clang, exactly at their sensitive spot, sending a strong wave of pain.

Instinctively, he rolled to the side and got to his four, looking at what had just hit him.

Hiccup stood there, leaning forward, hands hanging down limply, his hair covering most of the face.

Something was wrong. The hypnotized boy could not attack him without a command from him.

It was impossible for Hiccup to assault him.

"You must be pretty confused now. You have that stupid look on your dishonest muzzle,". A monotone voice emerged from Hiccup's lips, a far away voice washed from all emotions. He spoke fluently, dreamily as in sleep.

Toothless lowered his body.

"Don't even _think_ about using your pathetic mind- control to overpower this human," the passive-sounding youth continued.

Or was it really Hiccup?

"I've set up this human to stay at a distance from you and to repeat the message I've made him remember."

The Fury pondered on who - or what - could control the boy. He could only think of one thing which could do that.

IT.

Only IT could be that sadistic to not haunt him for a long time, and then suddenly strike through the one he cared the most about.

He needed to gain control again.

"You can keep this human. I am merely using it to rely my message," Hiccup continued passionlessly, "I won't introduce myself, as my real name and clan would not tell you anything. But you can call me 'the Nadder'. Yes, the same Nadder this human told you about."

_So it wasn't IT. That _was a relief. His chances of getting Hiccup out of this were infinitely higher, then.

"It was inevitable that you would try to command the human again. I do not mean harm to your precious human. If I had wanted him dead, he would already be," Hiccup said in a droning tone, "Thanks to that human, I know everything about you. About the loss of your tailfin, about the sudden bleeding from your nose and how your... kinship has progressed. Here are a few facts for you," Hiccup -or the Nadder- said.

"I am here to help you and the human. I won't harm the human and you need to let it continue the _'dragon training'_," Hiccup recited.

Toothess growled. He wanted to ask if he wanted some free fish with that deal. He bit his tongue in the last moment.

"You won't like it, but it is the surest way to prolong the human's life. And yours. If the human does not come back for a long time to the village, the other humans will start looking for him. Unavoidably, your sweet little hangout will be found," the boy stated matter-of-factly.

"You and the human will be killed. I have a distant feeling that you know how the Vikings deal with dragons. Imagine what they would do to the human if they knew that he helped the enemy," Hiccup went on in an emotionless tone.

"Now for the more important part. You are sick, _'Toothless'_," the dragon heard after a short pause.

"How do I know this? That reaction you have to the human: the enhanced emotionality, the feeling of sudden happiness. Your thoughts are focused on the human, your over-protectiveness... and the list goes on. These are the effects that human has on you. I won't get into details as you would not be interested in them. You are losing sight of what's important, Dark Emissary."

Toothless took a step forward. Hiccup's body tensed as he raised his hands, taking a defensive position, not even looking at the dragon.

So the controlled pup had to defend himself against the Fury. Another defence.

The sleek predator pawed back and the human's hands relaxed, hanging loosely again.

So it seemed that, additionally, the Nadder also knew about the name some dragons had given him.

That rough translation could mean 'Dark Emissary'.

However, in this case, the word _dark _in dragon language meant something connected to death. It was the kind of darkness you see when you die. _Emissary _was a word humans knew. It was closer to a forthbringer, somebody who carried out a will and forced it onto others.

The best words Toothless would have used to make his name better describe him the way humans would were different.

The Relentless Murderer.

He had to be very careful with his actions.

"Your behaviour is not natural or normal," 'Hiccup' elaborated, "Dragons, as humans call us, should and cannot be human's pets. You got captured in an emotional trap. You are addicted to the emotions the human is providing you with. You do not really care about the human; you want him near you because you now can't imagine life without him," The tone in which it was spoken was very calm.

Toothless' ear-antenna twitched as he assimilated the information. He did not take time to muse over them. He would have time for that after he made sure the boy was safe.

"You weren't like that before, you used to respect the human and be true to yourself. It is not too late to go back to that. However, don't jump from joy yet. You will never be as you used to be before meeting the human. You can see it, _Toothless_. You can sense it with your whole being," the words sunk into the Fury's mind.

_Absorb the information... concentrate... concentrate_! The dragon reiterated ceaselessly.

"You cannot exist alone any longer; you cannot have your pride back. You hurt yourself to protect the human, as you could not control the flow of another psyche in your mind any longer. You are getting weaker, _Toothless_. You do not know what to do and I can, no, _will_ tell you exactly how to get back to your old self. It will not be exactly the same, but it will make your mind strong again. I will share this knowledge without having any guarantee that you will let the human leave your den. Treat it as an act of good faith from my part," Hiccup said, his face without any expression.

The boy moved sluggishly towards him, outstretching his hand. Toothless let the palm rest on his forehead and felt the gentle pressure on his mind. There was some alien, but trustable power radiating from that fragile hand.

"You have not learned this type of mind-technique yet. It will be more like synchronising both of you. Whether you try it or not, this will be your decision. You can break the contact at any time. I will teach it to you from the basics. Let's start with breathing...,"

* * *

That splitting headache as he woke up was no surprise for him.

People trying to kill him and to beat him up, dragons trying to eat him and, from time to time, his interacting with the dangerous beasts and exploring an unknown world full of magic. Just another dull day for him.

The day was warm, the forest noisy with birds chirping in a horridly vivid and unorganised chorus He might have been in another illusion, trapped inside somebody else's mind.

He was not sure what day it was and how long he would be allowed to enjoy it before Toothless changed him into a mindless doll again.

He did not remember anything after a bright, blue light exploded before his eyes.

That was nothing new.

He felt as if nothing could surprise him anymore, as if nothing left could ever stir any positive emotions inside him.

He felt betrayed.

And this hurt him more than any insulting remark or a punch. He had never felt such burning feeling. Anger, sadness and hatred. And a continuous battle for dominance between them.

He stood up quickly from the pelt he had been laid on by the deadened fire-rock.

He let the emotions take over. He could sense where Toothless was. Instead of running away, he rushed with quick steps to the dragon's bolt-hole, the metal end of his saddle-securing cord banging against his leggings as he walked smartly, face contracted in anger.

He might have been hypnotised or whatever, but he would not deny himself the pleasure of making the dragon realise... just for once, _realise_ just how _pissed_ he was. No plan, no thoughtful conversation.

Only the release of his anger.

He barged in into the root-cave under the tree. As he expected, the dragon was lying there.

"How sweet you look when you sleep. I should never disturb a sleeping dragon, should I?" Hiccup said through his teeth.

Toothless, almost immediately opened his eyes to look up at the boy. His pupils were slit, but he emanated an aura of calmness. The youth for a split moment thought that he might be looking at a different dragon, so different was he from the one who had imprisoned him and treated him like an item.

The Fury raised his head and kept gazing, not looking ashamed or crawling and whimpering for forgiveness as Hiccup wished him to do. That would have saved him from what the boy did next.

A friendly and terribly fake smile appeared on the smallish youth's face.

The dark ear-antennas dropped, wary of the boy's reaction. Hiccup shaped a formation out of his two fingers resembling the letter V and held it towards the black nose.

Toothless, probably more out of politeness, neared his head and sniffed the fingers.

The fake human smile changed into a genuine one now, as Hiccup, with the speed of a diving Fury, plunged his fingers tips into the Fury's nostrils.

The rolling and wiggling dragon, held his paws on his nose. There were sensitive spots on the dragon's body other than below the jaw.

The whimpering and clearly miserable Toothless was a testimony to how painful sticking your fingers hard into a nose can be.

Hiccup folded hands on his chest, looking without any fear as Toothless managed to get past the pain and now glared at him from above and breathed loudly down at him, wriggling his nose. Even with cunning nose-frowning, the irritated dragon appeared dangerous.

Toothless raised an eyebrow in the human expression of one who expected more and then smirked and snorted softly, not even a bit angered.

The dragon would let his clanmate vent out his anger on him. He deserved it however, he won't let his nose to be treated in this way again.

In fact, there were no negative emotions coming out from him.

Hiccup did not show his surprise. There really was something different about the jet-black dragon.

Perhaps he was still dreaming.

He tried to poke the dark nose again. His hand was quickly caught gently between toothless gums. And it felt real.

The Fury released the youth's captured limb, scribbled something in the soil and left, without sharing the briefest look with the perplexed boy.

I KNOW YOU ARE ANGERED. I WANT TO EXPLAIN MYSELF.

"A bit too late, I think," Hiccup stated.

I USED THE HYPNOSIS TO HELP YOU TRAIN AND GET STRONGER. I DID NOT TELL YOU ABOUT IT BECAUSE I WANTED TO PROTECT YOU.

"I do not see how you can protect somebody by avoiding telling them the truth. I really know all about this," the dragon-rider said blandly.

YOU DID NOT TELL ME THE TRUTH ABOUT MEETING THE NADDER**, **Toothless observed.

"I did this because...!" Hiccup started to rush in to his defence, but he stopped and held back, thinking of his motive. He held his gaze locked with the flight- crippled dragon, " ...because _I_ wanted to protect _you_," he finished unwillingly," But I have told you about this**, ** and you rewarded me by imprisoning me in some happy, dragon dream-land" he said, folding his arms. He wanted to win this argument.

Toothless**, **however**, **did not care about winning it.

THERE WERE SOME ISSUES WITH MY MIND THAT I HAD TO WORK ON

The hesitant way the Fury stopped for a moment to draw the word "issues" caused the teen's heart to clench in worry.

"Are you all right now?" Hiccup asked, his voice much softer.

YES

Hiccup was grateful to see such an answer. He was sure he would not survive about the guilt from another problem that he might have caused to the dragon's physical condition.

"Do you have anything else to say or write, Toothless?" the frail Viking inquired.

PLENTY HOWEVER I WOULD LIKE TO DO SOMETHING ELSE NOW

"Like?" the thin boy questioned.

LET'S GO FLY FRIEND**, **The dragon wrote and jerked his head toward the harness.

"You promise you will tell me everything, later?"

I PROMISE**, **Toothless wrote back.

"All right**,** you lazy lizard. Let's see how fast you can go!" Hiccup said and smiled genuinely.

* * *

Hiccup forgot temporarily about everything as he glided through the sky, high above the ground. The white fluffy clouds floated under him in a concentrated mist.

The cool of the air, whistling in his ears, powerful muscles moving the wings and the flapping of the tail-fin leather was unperceivable as he moved his head around in astonishment and wonder.

He was flying!

Toothless soared, letting his partner enjoy the sensation. The dragon was also more than happy to finally feel the space again. Unbound and free.

Hiccup laughed like a child as a flock of seagulls crossed their path, crying to each other, and their disturbed voices disappeared quickly behind them.

Everything appeared so small and insignificant from the level of the clouds.

None of his problems and worries existed there. It was more than relaxing.

If the other Vikings only knew what joy flying was giving, and how many possibilities it could open to the village!

The boy furrowed his eyes as they flew through a small, white cloud. He huffed and tightened his muscles. He had to focus.

"All right, let's try this," he said, the noise the air making his words almost inaudible.

He pointed his finger at the parchment where he had drawn all the stirrup positions he needed to control the artificial tailfin.

His memory was never good when he was stressed. He pushed the pedal and with a squeak the tail-fin opened fully. Toothless grunted to himself, not finding the slow ride very enjoyable. They wobbled unsteadily in the air, as their synchronisation still needed polishing.

"Right...it's go time, it's go time," Hiccup said to himself as a short encouragement and rose on the stirrups leaning delicately forward. Toothless reacted immediately to the movement and folded his wings slightly, diving forward. It was nowhere as fast as the one he used in battle, but still faster than Hiccup had ever travelled. His heart beat so fast and loud he thought the sound would break his eardrums.

The rocky fjord neared suddenly, much faster than Hiccup wanted.

Wind howled and squeezed out tears from his squinted eyes. The water surface neared and the pedal position changed, almost at the last moment.

"Come on buddy! Come on buddy!" Hiccup yelled to the dragon. The Fury did not need the support, but he had learned to accept the human's way of shouting out his emotions.

Toothless once more responded seamlessly. They flew above the ocean, small waves blinking in light reflexes under them. The dragon rotated himself to the left.

Hiccup almost let out a warning shout at the unexpected move. The wing's hard tip grazed the water, cutting through it with practiced ease. The water sprayed behind it, and a rainbow formed on the miniscule droplets.

Toothless flapped his wings, gaining speed. They headed towards an enormous rock bow, jutting out from the water, appearing almost like a gate.

Hiccup looked up as they sped under it, admiring how gigantic the formation was, noticing the flock of birds flying under the curve's bottom, high above the flying pair.

The dragon grunted, quickly scanning the bow, assessing their ability to pass through it. He would make sure it was not their last flight together.

The boy looked ahead from admiring the flock and quickly glanced at his cheat-sheet. It was too late to avoid collision with a pillar he could have sworn appeared out of nowhere.

That was not the case for the dragon, who leaned backwards to lose the speed and crashed into the rock, with a small roar, jumping to the side and moving his wings again.

"Sorry!" the boy yelled, clearly =

"It's my fault," the youth said flatly.

Toothless answered with a twist of his head, slapping his rider on the cheek with his ear-antenna.

"Ow! Yeah, yeah...I am on it," Hiccup said indifferently, looking at his crib,"Position four...three!" he corrected himself.

Toothless snorted. At least one of them knew what to do.

The sarcastic boy's body bolted backwards as the dragon thrust his wings with amazing force, accelerating and moving up.

They ascended in a tight spiral, as rapidly as an arrow. Toothless lolled his tongue out in happiness. He could fly again. The nervousness and fear of giving away almost full control over himself to somebody else disappeared completely. As if he sensed the same, Hiccup grinned and laughed honestly in a way he had not done for a long time.

"Yeah, baby!" he shouted, seeing the clouds move closer to them flying along the snowy mountainside to their left.

Toothless breathed quickly, working his wings to the fullest. It was incredible. It was...

"Oh, this is amazing!," Hiccup shouted gleefully, "The wind in my-," he never finished this poetic allegory as the wind he just mentioned now gusted a tad too much," ...-Cheat-sheet! Stop!" he yelled, attempting a wild catch at his invaluable piece of parchment.

The dragon did exactly what the panicked teen wanted, and did it well. Too well, as the underweight, bony body flew out from the saddle, still travelling upwards from the inertia.

The metal cord ring keeping Hiccup attached to the saddle slipped from the hook, separating Hiccup from his only means of getting to the ground with a speed which would not mean a certain death.

It was precisely an excellent time to scream and roar in disorganised affright.

Gravity started working again, and the sky exploded with alarmed shouts and accompanying, high-pitched roars.

From the ground, it appeared as if two specks of dark hurled downwards, swirling to each other, dancing, trying to become one.

Through the dragon's short and thunderous roars, a human yell of pain resonated, and one speck moved away from another.

As if one could not exist without the other, they moved closer to each other once more and connected together.

Up there, Hiccup somehow caught the velum sheet with the tail-fin positions. Luckily, Toothless positioned himself underneath. The boy strapped himself down onto the saddle, not wasting any move.

Whiteness turned into greenness. They were past the part of the mountain always covered in the snow and now, an incalculable amount of trees closed in on them.

Hiccup put the cheat-sheet between his teeth and pulled the saddle pommel towards himself, putting all his strength into pushing the pedal and forcing the tail-fin to keep its open position.

Toothless fully unfolded his wings and bent his tail beneath himself to gain altitude. But all of this was not enough to break their speed enough to regain a steady flight. The wing's tips slashed the air, creating long, white wisps of smoke.

They swooped along the hillside, almost skimming the tree tops disappearing behind them. The mist cleared before them, letting the short cliff and the ocean surface appear beneath them.

Toothless regained the speed in which he could control his flight pattern and swung his wings in one, forceful move, straightening his tail. Hiccup adjusted his controlling part, and they shot forward with a speed almost no dragon could match.

To their horror, a rock maze of arches, cliffs and tunnels merged before them from the whitish clouds. There was no time to react or dodge the enormous formation.

They could only go forward, through the maze. Or die.

Hiccup noticed a split between the rocks, the narrow pathway they had to follow.

He took out the flight chart out of his teeth and looked at it trying to remind himself what to do. It flapped in the howling gust.

Toothless was ready to fly through the canyon, and so the boy had to be.

He let the parchment go. The thing for which he had put his –their- lives at risk a moment ago. Priorities can change in a split's of a flash. He had to face his insecurities. To start believing in himself without the support from the knowledge drawn on the item that had just disappeared behind them.

A feeling of determination and purpose overcame him. His body was stressed to its limits, but he was ready and calm just as the dragon was.

He had never been so sure of something connecting them as at that moment, when they plunged into a ravine barely wider than the Fury's wingspan, perfectly following the safe space together.

A lift turn and right, a gentle bank to the left. He was doing it! Soon, the end appeared, an opening more narrow than Toothless's wings blocking it.

With natural grace, the dragon folded his wings. Hiccup's world was turned upside down for a short moment as his friend performed a swift barrel roll.

Only one more turn, and the danger ended abruptly. They soared above the glistering water bathed in the full light of the afternoon sun.

The boy's mind needed time to catch on to the events and decided that it was time to shout in joy. He stood up in the stirrups and raised his hands, letting out a victorious scream. Here he had escaped death once more.

Toothless joined in, breathing out his bright firebolt. Instead of it hitting anything, it exploded midair in a fiery blast before them.

A blue halo came first.

"Aw, come on," the youth said tiredly.

A wall of fire which consumed the pair came next.

* * *

There was no way to bond better than to survive some life-threatening moments together.

Toothless had decided that Hiccup lacked knowledge concerning how his kind hunted, so he had him participate in several of his underwater excursions.

Night Furies, as humans called them, hunted various animals and there was almost nothing they did not like to eat, aside from eels.

Since the ocean took up most of Night Furies' habitats, eating fish was an obvious choice for a menu. The dragons did not have opposable thumbs, so they could not catch their prey. Instead, they plummeted into the water at high speed, and, with opened maws they caught as many fish in one go as possible.

So Hiccup wound up participating and got wet ...and Toothless was happy to hunt again.

Now they sat together on a small island, created long ago by one of the underwater volcanoes. The coast was made entirely of these hexagonal rocks known as basalt.

The youth had never seen such wonderfully formed stones, and it hungered his thirst to know more about the world. He really had not seen any of it.

Toothless ate from the pile of fish spread between his forelegs, occasionally tossing one in the air and waiting for it to come falling right into his awaiting throat.

Hiccup sat, leaning on the dragon's shoulder, and gazing at the small fire place he had created out of a few bits of driftwood and dried plants he had found on the beach.

Toothless rather enjoyed the new way Scalgertar's head fur looked now. Fully blown backward from the explosion and showing its deep, red colour. His red and brown fur was dichromatic exactly, the way the Fury's scales were, that could be black and, under the right light, blue or purple.

The Fury looked at the pensive posture of his partner and regurgitated a part of his fish for Hiccup to eat and cheer him up.

Nothing made a person happier than a good, large meal.

Hiccup declined politely showing his own, small fish he cooked over the equally miniscule fireplace.

They would have shared their companionship in quiet, if not by the sudden, disturbing chirps and growls coming from above. A small flock of four Terrible Terrors flew towards them and landed in front of them, not minding the presence of a Night Fury and, even more surprisingly, of a human.

Toothless growled and put a paw over his slimy food. If anything was driving those silly little dragons to trespass nonchalantly into a more powerful dragon's territory, it was surely stupidity and ignorance!

Most would see it as courage and it is why those creatures were named after it. The Legár Fraem which meant Little Braveness. Or Squashers as IT named it.

You could say that this kind was noisy, dirty and not admired, as they were prone to doing stupid things, like trying to steal food from much more powerful and experienced dragons.

Two of the invaders, an orange and a green dragon, fought over the regurgitated fish head, the Orange hissing and breathing out a small flame, chasing the Green away and eating the fish piece with an empty look.

Toothless looked at the short struggle . Suddenly he noticed that one of his fish was moving away from his paw.

It was not because the dead fish had suddenly acquired the ability to walk away on its head, but because it was pulled away by an Emerald green Terror.

Much bigger jaws snapped on the fish, and after a short struggle, the irritated Fury jerked the scaly seafood morsel away from the lifter. The Emerald spewed out part of the fish's tailfin out from his jaws and scraped the rock with his tiny claws, ready to attack.

So young, so brave and so naive.

Green gas built inside the tiny dragon's throat. Toothless managed to raise his eyebrow line. These little ones might have been named after the braveness they showed occasionally; however, to the striped Night Fury they were insane, with a strong leaning towards suicidal.

The bored Fury shot a tiny firebolt into the opened maw of the Emerald. The gas exploded and the Terror's chest expanded rapidly as a balloon as he was thrown upwards by the gas. He dropped flatly as the gas deflated inside him

Toothless put on his Number Seven smile, the superior smirk and went back to devouring his food, not looking at the defeated Fraem even once.

Hiccup, on the other paw, had this annoying habit of his of helping everything that was hurt and looked pitiful.

"Here you go...not so fire-proof inside?" the emphatic youth said humorously as he scooped up a small fish and laid it on the ground in front of the wobbling Terror, who miraculously recovered from his very 'painful' burns.

The Terror devoured it without even biting and smacked his lips. Tilting his head curiously, he walked closer to the human, stopping once to see if the boy was not trying to hurt him. Noticing nothing hostile, he nuzzled the youth's arm and curled by his side, purring in bliss.

Hiccup stroked down the light- green back gently. Toothless munched and observed him from the corner of his eyes, wary of the incomers.

"Everything we know about you guys... is wrong," Hiccup spoke, eyes pensive and tone affectionate, as he continued to stroke the Terror.

At this sight, Toothless felt a prick of jealousy reach his heart. Yesterday, he would have kicked the irritating dragon out from Hiccup's lap and made it clear who could be touched by the human – or not.

Last night's time with himself, deeply going over things in his mind, had let him go back to his old self- or so he had thought.

He decided to simply stop looking at something he did not enjoy, and he directed his watchful eyes on something which had kept bothering him since the landed.

From all of them, only one had not lunged on Toothless' food and sat apart from him in a safe distance. It was a female, of course. They were usually smarter and more responsible. She sat up on her hind legs and stared at him. He returned the stare with equanimity.

Smell was the most important sense for dragons, and it told Toothless a few things. There were three males and one female in the group, and all of them were close siblings. His sense of hearing told him from the sounds the males produced that they could not speak, and that they were not well mind-trained.

The most curious fact, however, was that they did not escape or attack Hiccup. Every dragon under the influence of IT was supposed to do that.

His intelligence whispered to him that there was something odd about it all, and he had to know the reasons.

"Do you speak?" he grunted to the young dragoness.

Her brothers, having satisfied their hunger, were playing by the water, rolling with each other in a mock fight. No answer came, and Toothless expected for a moment that he would not receive any.

"Little," the dragoness Toothless immediately started calling Crimson in his mind now spoke in a hesitant and croaky bark. Her voice was unsure, but her eyes steady and intrepid.

"Where is the rest of your _Kathet_?" the Fury asked.

Crimson blinked, her eyes not changing, her pupils wandered up for a split moment as she searched her memory for the meaning of the word and then went back to their original position almost instantaneously.

"Left," she growled the answer.

"To where?" Toothless questioned again. Crimson eyed him, not responding, as though she were trying to find out what the reasons behind those questions were.

Unbeknownst to her, the stealthy Night Fury was ready to dominate her mind and capture her, if necessary, to know more. All because those little Terrors had parents from the nest Toothless was from and where IT resided. The Terrors' distinct odour and his almost perfect memory matched, assuring him of the accuracy of his conclusion.

Trying to be more persuasive, he swooped up one of the fish still left from his meal and tossed it to the dragoness. Her eyes glistened with hunger at the prey. However, she did not start eating it.

The Fury smiled. So, she remembered a few of the common manners.

"Eat it. May it serve your health," Toothless said.

Right after the words "Eat it," the fish vanished. Crimson licked her lips.

"Eat more. I satisfied my hunger," the sleek black dragon invited. Without having to repeat the request, the reddish Terror ran and consumed anything piscine lying on her path.

"Where has your Kathet left?" he rephrased his question, attempting to sound gentle and trustworthy.

"Away...to where sun hide," Crimson said with a small purr as her hunger receded.

Escaped. Some of the dragons had escaped the Control! It was possible to roam around, but the link to IT never disappeared, never left. No matter where you were.

There was also one rule which had to be respected: every female carrying eggs had to go back to the Nest to lay the eggs and supply IT with new workers. From all the time Toothless had spent there, he had seen that no dragoness could avoid it.

It was impossible. Unless something had happened which he did not know about.

_IT is losing power,_ he thought immediately. He then thought about many past seasons without even a faint trace of IT's presence in his mind.

He remembered his first night free of the nightmares IT sent him, reminding him again and again how powerless he was and what mistakes he had made.

Internally, he boiled with rage at the recollection. He had never forgotten about his mission.

Even when he was busy licking Hiccup or relaxing with him, it was always there and the decision that had to come with it.

He froze his anger into a tiny shard of ice. The truth about his emotions hid itself back beneath his gleaming, reptilian eyes.

Thanks to Hiccup, he had his wind back and power that came with it. Yet he still did not have the courage to go there and face the cause of his despair. With the small weight leaning on his shoulder, thinking about the encounter seemed more bearable. Easier and more probable.

Would he involve Hiccup in his revenge? He laid out the facts, and he realized it was not a question any longer. It seemed obvious the boy had tied his fate with the Fury's by disabling him of his flying ability and returning it to him.

But Toothless did not know the answer.

With all the affection and the feelings he had for the boy, he still could not tell what was more important to him. He could not forget about revenge, this emotion stirring him and giving him the strength to move forward.

He knew what he would do when he saw IT again. If it ever happened.

Perhaps, he would tell Hiccup one day about this ambition/revenge of his life.

And ask him to participate in his selfish desire and risk his life for him.

Knowing the boy, Hiccup would agree.

But if he were to die in the battle...

But he was too fragile, too weak, too... human.

Toothless's battle training was also not working well on the youth, either.

The boy might fight and move with some skill when hypnotised; however, once he woke up Hiccup was back to his clumsy old self as if this knowledge went back to a part of his mind he was not aware of. Just like the dream.

He could not make that choice.

There were too many unknowns.

His relationship with Hiccup was too fresh. It had not not sunk into him enough. Not enough to bear the possibility of Scalgertar disappearing.

_Heavy thoughts for a simple meal you have there,_ he thought to himself. Lost in thought, he looked down. Crimson did not look at him anymore. She now looked with interest at Hiccup.

"He is my Athet," Toothless said quickly and added louder so every Terror would hear, "You are _not _to harm him."

At the noise of the Fury's growl, the playing dragons briefly stared and went back to their game of chasing after each other. They acted friendly because they were allowed to eat.

Having shared his meal, Hiccup was now considered as an ally. However, if the boy had done anything his newest lap-dragon did not like, the napping Terror would have torn the teen's throat.

Young dragons without any control or training were unpredictable and dangerous.

The dragon and rider pair could not push their luck further.

Toothless rose to his feet. Hiccup looked behind himself, puzzled at this sudden decision. The black scaled Fury motioned to the boy to stand up and jump on.

"Everything all right, bud?" he asked worriedly.

The toxic-green eyes did not answer him. Instead, they focused on the small dragon right next to Scalgertar's leg. The tiny maw was opened, disliking that something which had been giving him so much pleasure had stopped. The little Terror opened his mouth to bite, to get the attention back.

His body froze, sensing a dominating and deadly power above in a pair of toxic-green eyes. On instinct, the Terror jumped away, yelping in fear.

"Toothless?" Hiccup spoke in surprise, feeling the dangerous aura striking him, as well, for a brief instant.

The Fury gestured to the saddle on his back again with once-again calm, round pupils. He leaned towards the boy and waited.

Hiccup climbed on, attempting to pet the Terror, who was now more reluctant to be touched. He spat and hissed at Hiccup. And, more so, at the big and dangerous source of Fear behind him.

"You're not good at making friends," Scalgertar stated laconically, hooking himself to the saddle.

_I learn from the best,_ Toothless thought to himself not even snorting. He took off quickly, not looking behind. His departure was observed by a pair of yellow eyes. These were good eyes.

The journey mostly took place in silence.

"I wonder if we will see those little guys again?" Hiccup asked as they flew back to the cove. With high probability Toothless could predict they would never meet this rowdy group again. They were too young, unable to hunt properly. They would most likely be defeated by hunger or eaten by other predators.

However, the Fury made sure to fly in a straight line to his hiding place, and let the young dragoness observe him.

Crimson did not fear him, even when her brothers scrambled away in fear. He hoped, believed, that the female pack leader would follow him one day and ultimately find him. If her pack were strong enough to survive and determined to find him, he would teach them how to survive.

If they were strong enough.

When they landed, Hiccup took off the harness and stowed it in the basket by the tree.

Toothless explained shortly, using clear writing, about the way he trained Hiccup and about the Nadder and how the boy would have guaranteed safety if he continued the 'Dragon Training'. He did not neglect to tell about the strange reaction the youth had to the hypnosis: the pale skin and self-healing. How akin to dragonlike reactions it was.

Hiccup took it calmly, with passive acceptance. He somehow had suspected how unusual everything involving dragons was. How he had changed. How his connection to the Fury was not a normal friendship, not like it had been before. Hiccup had changed. They both had. Was he still a human? Or was he becoming a dragon?

He bit his lip in uncertainty. Certainly, he had enough information for now**,** and no more queries.

The Fury, however, had one burning question, one that he had wanted to ask his partner since he had understood more about the relations between the Berk people and him.

HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO LEAVE THIS ISLAND?

"Yes, many times bud," the auburn-haired boy replied instantaneously, "But I can't do it...I still have some things that are important to me," he said.

Toothless cocked his head, peering probingly.

YOU SHOULD STOP DOING THINGS TO PLEASE OTHERS AND CONCENTRATE ON YOUR OWN DESIRES

It was not the usual, dragon-scrutiny. It was a friend's advice.

Soon, the boy waved goodbye and left their refuge.

Toothless had to let Hiccup go. Let him fight and follow the Nadder's requests, which sounded more like orders.

The fact that Hiccup was still alive after the first part of the training, or his splendid "advice" on recovering from his mental condition did not free him from all the worry.

The Nadder was, undoubtedly, the master, and he could not risk opposing him.

The spined beast had managed to make Hiccup's mind resilient to the hypnosis. When he had tried it again last night, that message had been repeated.

The boy might have not felt it, however, his mind was under a lot of stress, and headaches were just the beginning.

Also, the Nadder must know he needed Hiccup for a purpose, so as long as Scalgertar fought, he was safe.

Toothless let out an irritated hiss. Of all the places he had to find a master-dragon, it had to be _here_. In all his life he had met three of them, and he had heard about seven.

These amazingly-skilled individuals were always old and very dangerous, and since they were powerful, they did not need to take sides with anyone.

One characteristic common to them was that they always had some long term plan to fulfil. Some extremely challenging task which would make them ever better.

They were masters in self-improving.

Toothless would go along with the plan, whatever that was, but he would lurk in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. This was something he was really good at.

* * *

The atmosphere in the village had changed. People talked more lively, cheery laughter sounded more often through the wooden walls.

Beside one of those walls, Hiccup hid himself. He listened to the family passing nearby, a young girl and three teenage boys swarming around their father. He talked loudly and proudly about the last excursion he had just returned from, the glorious battles they had fought and the prodigious leadership of Stoick.

_Father! He is alive_! Hiccup thought, his heart beating strongly. And he felt happy and relieved of the news.

And afraid.

The family passed; the girl squealed in delight as the man took her up in his powerful arms and kissed her on the cheek. One of his sons carried his travelling sack and other weapons, all showing great respect for the warrior.

Hiccup perfectly concealed his presence. Years of practice in how to remain unnoticed in his own homeplace paid off.

He rushed to the only place which offered solitude, and it was not to Toothless. He had to face his father; he only needed a bit of time to organise his thoughts.

How would he talk to him again now? He could not meet with him. Too much had happened. Stoick was a Viking in every meaning of this word. The time he was gone had only widened the gap between them.

He sneaked into the forge. Gobber would not be here; he'd be celebrating at the party in the Mead Hall with the others. The fun would continue until late that night, and even into the morning.

Hiccup had a rough draft of a plan: a) go back to his house in the evening, and b) await the Big Talk.

His father would be under the effect of more than a few generous mugs of something highly intoxicating, so he might not ask too many questions or speak too many words.

The less the better. Hiccup would smile and nod.

He had to work on his assuring smile… _let's see, grin, giggle like a girl and be natural_.

With a sense of impending failure, he entered the small room he used in the forge for his projects.

He sat down at his chair and let his arms drop heavily unto the bent sketching board, He looked up at the old sketches of projects he had pinned to the wall.

Most noticeable of all was of his bola launcher. It all seemed to have happened so long ago.

He took out his notebook, swollen from all of the drawing and chalk-outs he had done. He had made more of them in the previous six weeks than he had done throughout his whole life. Several loose parchment pages fell out on the desk with the pencil.

Absent-mindedly, he laid his head on one arm and used the other to flip the drawing tool up the slanted wood surface, watching it slide back down quickly.

The evening did not come fast. Playing with the pencil was not distracting enough to dispel the dark thoughts clouding his mind.

Leave the island?

He did not roll up his writing implement. It collided with the short edge and stopped.

He had told Toothless the truth. It was how he felt and how he believed.

He was still important to some people. Still useful. This was what he wanted. He was not doing it for the others, he was risking his life for... himself?

The pencil jumped upward, rolled by a finger. He did it three more times when somebody entered his room.

Somebody huge.

"D-dad...you're back!" he yelled loudly and utterly confused, as the enormous form squeezed in through the door-frame.

His father was just as he remembered him. Gigantic, with a steel-hard eye look and even in the same clothes he had seen him in the last time.

"G-Gobber is not here, so...," Hiccup said the first thing which came to his mind as to why his father would have been looking for him.

"Oh, I came 'ere lookin' fo' ya," Stoick said gravely, and there was hidden irritation in these words.

"Y-you did?" the stuttering youth spoke out.

Now_ this_ was unbelievable, and it might have been a pleasant experience if not for the inexplicably dark demeanour of his father.

"You've been keepin' secrets," the towering Viking said in a stating tone.

"I-I-I have?" Hiccup answered faintly in the poorest example of pretended innocence.

He could not start any sentence without stuttering. Feeling breath-taking fear, he spotted Toothless's sketches on the desk by him and attempted to cover them with his hand.

Such a simple task was impossible for him, as he could barely move his body. Did his father...?

"Just how long did you think you could hide it from me?" Stoick asked, his eyes sharp.

Hiccup did not know what to say or what to do.

He had bigger chances of defeating Toothless with a dull toothpick than finding the right things to say to his father.

His mind worked sluggishly as if suddenly frozen, his body shivered a fearful chill.

"I-I do-do now know... what you are getting...?" he faltered horribly. It was one of those times when he could not go on with his speech and he could not do basically anything.

He could never lie well, especially to his father. But then, Stoick himself did not seem to be observant enough around the boy to notice when this one was not exactly truthful.

It was one part of their relationship which worked well.

The next words the Chieftain said caused Hiccup to slump in fear, his face gazing up in absolute terror.

"_Nothing_ happens on this island without me hearin' bout it!" Stoick said loudly.

His son made himself look even smaller than he was- if that were possible. For even an unskilled observer, Hiccup's face appeared dark, very dark, as if his imagination took a form and showed his thoughts through his face expression and eyes.

That all went unnoticed by his father. He was swelling with self pride and was in his own world, having fun playing his little game.

"So... let's talk...about _that _dragon," Stoick said darkly.

Hiccup reacted straightaway.

"Oh, gods! Dad, I am s-so sorry! I-I wanted to tell you!" he said defensively.

He was feeling so small again, even in the face of something he believed in fanatically.

It was his biggest fear and the strongest part of his relationship with his father. This connection he did not have to take care of or show the depth of it; it was built on guilt, admiration, shame and never-fulfilled expectations.

Hiccup gave up. His determination and courage could not hold against his father.

Everything was lost, he knew, and there was nothing he could do.

There was not even one thought about protecting the Fury. Nothing selfless.

It is how his father worked on him. Once again he was a hopeless kid, burns bound in bandages, watching the only person he had left in his family sitting silently by his bed in a silence that crushed the boy's heart.

Everyday Stoick had come to his bedside and just sat there, taking care of the gravely injured child, never talking. There was so much pain in those ice-green eyes. All because of Hiccup.

He did this.

And then, suddenly, the village leader began laughing in a free and careless manner. With a joy Hiccup had almost never heard before. Stupefied, he replied with the same reaction, laugh-giggled nervously, barely able to keep standing.

"You-you are not...upset?" he asked. The other substitute for the word _upset_ could have been _agonisingly-infuriated _or _skull-smashing-irked_.

"Upset? I was _hoping_ for this!" Stoick bellowed with a bright grin and leg out a very tired huff. Hiccup, stunned, waited for an explanation.

"You were?" Hiccup queried, finally catching the fact that his father's behaviour might have had nothing to do with Toothless.

"Just wait...it only gets better! Just wait until you spill a Nadder's guts for the first time! Or mount a Gronckle's head on a spear!," the well-built Viking continued his tale of Glorious Things Every Viking Had To Do, "Thor Almighty! " he bellowed, as if a great burden had suddenly dropped off him, "It was rough, I admit it!"

He held his hand out to make Hiccup get the Point. The boy actually had gotten the Point without it being emphasised so powerfully," I _almost_ gave up on you but... with you doing so well in the ring...," Stoick said, suddenly relieved of all the burden he had carried concerning his more-than-disappointing son.

After all, it _was_ what his father thought of him. How he looked at Hiccup: with pity and succumbed to the hopelessness his single child showed.

It always hurt to hear the truth.

"We _finally _hav' something t' talk 'bout," the muscular Chieftain said and sat heavily on the only real chair in the room. It squeaked under the force while he beamed, staring at Hiccup with pride and anticipation as to what his, now excellent, fighter of a son and new joy in his life would say.

Stoick was also hoping that it would aid them rebuild their father-to-son bond. Repair things. Make them family again. United.

The silence did not discourage Stoick. He moved forward expectantly in his chair, thudding as he moved.

Hiccup avoided the gleeful stare and exultant expression.

He could not lie, could not pretend. Not in the moment he had been awaiting for all his life: finally being somebody in his father's eyes.

His father believed him, and he had faith in a mere, illusive lie.

It happens that, sometimes, a lie can bring people together. Between Hiccup and Stoick, a lie had never made them more apart.

_Finally, _they had _nothing_ to talk about. Nothing.

The wide grin slowly faded. Stoick blinked in surprise and harrumphed to clear the awkward atmosphere.

He took one of his hands from behind his back that Hiccup then noticed had been held concealed through their whole "talk".

"H-here," Stoick said, handing something metallic and shiny to his son. It was a helmet. A typical, iron cap with the unusual horns at the sides, symbolising the ruling blood, "Your mother would have wanted you to have that. You have kept yer part of th' bargain'" he explained as the boy soothed the smooth surface nostalgically. He was touching something which had once belonged to his mother.

All of her items were locked in his father's room, and Hiccup had never wanted to get inside to see them. As a child he considered it as a bad omen, as if it could call back ghosts from the past.

"It's half of her breastplate, ya know?" the Chieftain said.

Hiccup withdrew his hand quickly with a hiss. Some things were better unspoken, and _this_ was one of them!

Stoick pointed at his own helmet and tapped it gently," It's a matching set... helps keeping you safe...and her memory alive," he ended with a softness he never showed. Hiccup realised how much it cost his father to show this side of himself to him.

"I-um," Hiccup attempted to say that he did not deserve it.

It was too much for him. He wanted this moment to finish and for something to drop on his head and make him forget everything.

With a very old excuse that always worked, he stretched his body suddenly, yawning mendaciously.

"Oh, it's so late!" he said, as if surprised. It was nowhere near late; the setting sun was still visible outside.

Stoick jumped up from his seat as if it was on fire. This had all been awkward for him, as well.

"Yes, a good rest is important! T-take care, son!" he said limply and evacuated himself through the door, getting stuck in the doorframe again and almost making the weapon rack fall with his enormous body. When he was fully outside, out of Hiccup's view, he let his breath out in relief.

He felt like a father again. Like he no longer had a strange burden in his household, but his own flesh and blood, following in his steps, as he had followed his father's.

In a few days he would witness his son's first dragon fight! He could not wait to see it.

_Make me proud, son_! he thought, walking away smartly, letting all the world know about his gleeful mind-set.

_Make me proud..._

* * *

The next few days passed dangerously fast.

Hiccup spent them flying, visiting a few nearby islands with Toothless, not talking at all about the incoming fights. Toothless did not force him to talk, did not push the topic.

Hiccup also practised diligently with bow and shield. Every day, without exception, under the watchful eye of his friend.

The evening prior to the final, qualifying, battle, the petite teen brought the Fury a salmon, the dragon's favourite. It was the biggest salmon Hiccup could find at the market.

They spent the night together, curled one against each other, each finding strength in the other's support. Cracking one eye open, Toothless saw Hiccup leave. He observed him standing up, trying not to wake Toothless.

He studied the frowning face as his soul-giver looked into the distance.

Toothless had to let him leave as he wished: unnoticed and alone.

Hiccup left his diary on the saddle, though. A symbol that he would be back for it soon and draw about the day's events again.

As Toothless strived to fall asleep after several few sleepless nights, the Nadder's cage was opened

* * *

AN: No Silly Story this time. I do not have any idea for one. Tell me what you think and I really mean it. In the previous chapter I received almost two times less reviews than usual. What was the reason? Is it boring? Too slow-paced? Too many OOCs? I cannot tell by myself. Remember that your opinion matters. Do not hesitate to voice it.

Until next time.


	26. Bitter Conclusions

AN: Thank yo uto **Fjord Mustang **for correcting my scribbles.

* * *

_Here we go again,_ Hiccup thought as he sprinted behind one of the barricades, pelted in dragon skin from the outside for fire protection. He needed as much as he could get as the small, bright yellow fireball blew up on the covering, the fire spread as if sticking itself to the surface, continuing burning.

The Nadder chuckled croakily.

"Bastard," the green-eyed teen muttered to himself. That overgrown, needle-covered chicken did not show any of its powers**,** and Hiccup was absolutely sure it would not in public.

He had forgotten to ask Toothless about the Nadder's gender however, it just had to be male. This knowledge did not come from anything logic based. He blamed his new ability to feel the hated beast and some part of his brain could distinct the sex. A small shred of what he sensed, felt as Toothless.

"You talkin' to me?" a deep, aggressive voice asked near to the youth. He turned his head and saw Snotlout, sitting casually with his sword laid next to him.

"Just talking to myself**,** S'lout," Hiccup said automatically, looking over the edge of the wooden means of his survival. The dragon was walking by the opened cage doors, pacing calmly, waiting for an attack. All of the trainees were scattered, hidden somewhere in the arena behind one of the barricades. There was no maze for protection since the last one had been burned down.

Nobody wanted to strike first. The memory of what had happened when they fought the beast the last time was still very much alive. Nobody admitted**,**however, all of them felt an instinctive fear. Fear did not cause Vikings to surrender; that could never happen.

But it meant they needed to be more cautious.

"Don't have your bow this time?" Snotlout queried casually, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He was not tired yet; he was sweating because of the tension. Hiccup was glad that he was not the only one stressed.

"I didn't think it would help me much this time," Hiccup answered quickly, gripping his dagger and shield harder. Weapons did not matter in this struggle. If the other Vikings only knew what kind of dragons really were kept in those cages! If they knew, would they still be shouting with obnoxious disdain and sealed superiority?

"Well, whatever, I am going to beat your ass this time," Snotlout said playfully from beside Hiccup.

"Yes, yes...," the blacksmith apprentice stated laconically, sighing secretly.

Luckily he was not only hidden from the dragon's view, but also from his father, sitting proudly on the stone throne which had been empty up to now. His father concentrated on the fight, discussing its progress with Gobber, located next to the chain-fence at the front. On his left the Elder stood, leaning on her gnarled stave**, **and on the leader's right stood Stoick's brother, no visible emotions marking his face.

"Good luck, Hiccup," Snotlout threw out suddenly with a tone that could not be anything other than soft.

Before the dagger-clutching teen could look at his cousin in confusion, he managed to see only the shiny sword's reddish edges and he heard the first battlecry that day.

The crowd roared in delight as the battle had started.

Hiccup let the breath out and abandoned his protective barricade. If his cousin was able to call him by his name without adding any insult to it, he had another reason to end that fight sooner.

The Nadder wanted Hiccup**, **and it was what he would get, but he would not make it easy for him.

He quickly moved to another protective stand. He caught Snotlout swinging his weapon at the dragon, Astrid and Fishlegs following right behind.

The Nadder uttered a series of panicked squawks, running away from the pursuers.

The mob exploded in mirth as the 'stupid' creature cleared its way out, leaping in the same way as a chicken, scared of anything which resembled an axe blade glint.

What _was_ it with that dragon and this crazy acting all the time?

The blue-scaled dragon kept his distance with ease, letting the warriors approach him**, **only to evade them once more.

None of the fighting teens wanted to flank the beast. That would give an advantage to the people behind.

The time for teamwork was now over. The only way to guarantee you would make it to the next round was to defeat the Nadder.

Quick as a blink of an eye**, **the spined predator turned and blew out a cascade of flames. Even faster, each dragon-slayer apprentice rolled or threw him or herself in a more or less organised way behind the closest stand.

Three of them were not quick enough.

The fire licked Fishleg's shield**, **covering most of his abdomen however, not all of it. A small trail of magma hot flame scorched the burly youth's side**, **Barely touching yet still causing immense pain. If he would have been thinner, Fishlegs would have avoided the shot**;** sadly, he was not. With impetus he fell behind a barricade and held his injured side with a painful hiss.

The twins each reacted in the same, disciplined way. They crouched and hid completely behind their personal fire-proof protections. They avoided the gust of devastating fire. That came with the price. As they hid, they had to lose sight of their enemy**, **and it made them blind.

The Nadder would never let such a chance slip through his acute claws. Two scale-quills streaked in a speed which created a white streak behind them as they slid through the air. They hit the shields exactly at their outward edges, breaking the protective dragon skin and wood. The force of the hit rotated the bucklers against the flexed arm muscles, opening the defenders.

A perfect chance for the dragon to attack however, no death followed.

It was the twins' mistake to stay at the line of fire instead of using the ground protection scattered around the arena.

Hiccup was the only one who chose to remain in the open. It gave him the unique position, outside the dragon's fire as he stood on the side. It also gave him a very clear idea of whom the crazy reptile would focus his attention on next.

With a rumbling laugh-squawk, the dragon ran at his newest victim. An axe spiralled in the air from the side, rushing perfectly at the armoured head.

With a slight adjustment of the running pace and lazy jerk of the head, the dragon deflected the double-edged axe, using the bone-crown on his head.

Hiccup let his less than useful battle equipment drop to the ground with a clatter. His five teammates were nigh, but nowhere as close to Hiccup as the Nadder was. The stone floor was slashed with the sharp paw talons, three on each of the powerful legs**, **as the dragon positioned itself abruptly exactly next to the boy's face, eyes squinted in a fearful grimace.

A loud, feminine yell announced Astrid's fast approach to retrieve her axe and a potential counter attack.

The Nadder's lip tips lifted in a smirk. He waited for what the boy would do.

Hiccup quickly reached behind the rough skin below the beast's jaw and scratched it quickly. The dragon gargled in what seemed to be pleasure**, **and the heavy body dropped to the ground.

* * *

Astrid paced, heaving after the long run, exhaustion after the battle soughing in her skull. She unwillingly clenched her shoulders, capped in their riveted, iron pauldrons.

Was this what Hiccup had done when fighting the Zippleback in the green mist? He had hit it with his _bare hands_?

Just envisioning the boy hitting anything without breaking his fist first was bizarre enough**, **however, this was exactly what she had seen him do a moment ago!

He had defeated the Nadder with little effort, the very beast which almost slaughtered them with dreadful ease.

This couldn't have happened! Hiccup could not do this! He was not this strong.

He was not so...good.

Her mouth opened, her mind hung suspended without any coherent thought. She finally let her weapon drop, let it strike the stone she stood on, for the first time in her life doing it voluntary.

It was so humiliating to work so hard and yet be outdone by someone else so effortlessly in the end.

She was not fighting for the people to chant her name in awe or for recognition from others. She fought for her family, true**; **it was the most significant item in her heart which propelled her forward through this endless cycle of training and fighting.

She also knew she fought for herself. Every warrior had to have a reason to fight. Without it, battle was only a mindless aggression, profanity to everything the word "Viking" represented. She believed in it, had hope that by making herself stronger**, **she would be able to protect the community and her family better. She would serve well as a soldier and**, **one day**, **lead her own unit.

She felt defeated and her mental strength deflated. A true warrior never let the dark thoughts take an important place. A true warrior believes and sees only the victory for the tribe.

She clenched her jaws tight, trembling in cold anger. What could Hiccup know about working at something in vain? He had been doing so poorly in the dragon training**, **and here he suddenly showed his true potential. How deceitful**!**

All along, he might have been really a better fighter than she.

Against her iron-forged will, she felt her eyes burning. She would _not_ cry, of course not**!** She would have never done that publicly, not when her mother and father had come for the first time to watch her combat.

She hung her head in abasement.

The mirthful outburst in front of her proceeded, repeating itself as many times before. Obnoxious and blatant, assaulting her ears, stating her failure.

She noticed a shadow on the ground and the sound of somebody lifting her mother's axe.

Ready to punch Hiccup for approaching her again and trying to comfort her with his ever-sorry face and those sad, pitiful stare as if he was constantly apologising for something, she turned to yank her possession back.

"What's up**, **babe?" Snotlout said with a wide grin, handing her axe.

Astrid did not attack. He was not Hiccup and it was different; he had lost this match along with her.

"You've dropped something," he stated an obvious fact.

"Thanks," Astrid said hastily, taking her weapon.

"Sooo...," the beefy teen started elaborately. It was an apparent introduction to a following monologue and that unceasing desire to ask the young woman on a date.

This was not a time nor place for flirting; with Snotlout it never was.

"Why him?" Astrid asked, looking at Hiccup who was laughing nervously, accepting the honest Fishleg's extolment, towering over the victor and holding his side not showing any sign of pain.

Gobber was right behind the metal bars of the door, waiting for them to be opened.

"I was thinking that you-ough!" he grunted in pain as Astrid stopped his word flow by punching him in the ribs.

"Why did Hiccup win?" she repeated, forming the question more clearly. She knew she could ask Snotlout out of every other student she trained with. He was the only one who took his own training the way Astrid considered a true warrior would. Snotlout might be too self-confident, forever fail his attempts to woo her and have the intelligence of a dead scallop; however, he had always treated his training seriously. On the battlefield she knew he would act like a soldier**, **and she had to admit he was quite talented with the sword.

He was the closest person she currently knew who might understand her feelings.

"Why?" Snotout blurted bruskly; it was not a good sign of mutual understanding.

"He was better, that's obvious," he stated naturally, hopeful smile not disappearing from his smug face.

Astrid sighed and continued her line of reasoning, here eyes opening wider, "Don't you find it suspicious how _good_ he is? How fast he has become the best dragon trainee? You've trained with him, seen him fight. You really think he could defeat a dragon with his _bare _hands?"

She just wanted Snotlout to affirm her, to validate her opinion. It was a weakness to ask somebody else a question like this, however, she did not considered it.

Hiccup might have convinced the village about his suddenly manifesting prodigious skills, however, there was one thing the newest gossip target of the village could not avoid: the objectivity you gained when you did one-to-one combat with an opponent. Everything revealed itself, then: how harmoniously the body moved when attacking. How fast, strong, how determined the opponent actually was. There was no use hiding anything; all physical and mental faults were rendered forth.

Nothing could gauge a human as much as one-to-one combat. There were countless tales of warriors understanding their adversaries when their weapons clashed against each other, seeing the glimpses of truth, the shards of their soul.

Then, what had she seen in Hiccup? What had his fists told her about him?

To put it simply, she had seen that he was such a weakling, the weakest opponent she had ever seen! At least on the body.

He was more delicate than most women, smaller and clumsier. He picked up learning the moves fast, however, he had problems coordinating them.

But what about his mind? His soul?

His mind was a mystery to her**, **a confusing and unsolvable puzzle.

She knew he was determined to train. And he certainly could use his mind better than she could use hers. He could be somewhat charismatic, however, only when in battle.

It was as if there were two Hiccups. One acted like an idiot, weak and doing everything wrong. And there was the other Hiccup: As weak as the first one, but using his intelligence for the benefit of others. Excelling in the entrusted tasks, making people follow him. Able to see a situation better than the others.

_That_ Hiccup had such resolution in his eyes, a bright glow of clarity and concentration! It was one of the rare times when she loved to look at him. Those were the eyes of somebody she would entrust with her life, radiating such courage you could not say no. That Hiccup was someone breathtaking and inspiring. He could make people hope. The few times he hung out with his classmates, usually sharing a few drinks,he would speak to them about the way to end the war with the dragons, to try looking differently at them.

He could not stop talking about the scaly hazards, yet it was not the irritating spewing of random facts Fishlegs so generously shared with them. Hiccup did not talk about the methods of killing them or discussing tactics. Instead, he encouraged them to be more careful around the hated beasts. He advised watchful caution and not to underestimate them, that perhaps dragons were not as stupid as everybody believed.

Perhaps, even, dragons were something more. There was nothing on his freckled face but admiration and respect for dragons when he spoke about them. After these last two incidents with the Nadder, all of the other trainees had leaned closer to his way of thinking.

Hiccup had won against the unstoppable blue devil twice, and he had proved useful numerous times before.

His opinion now mattered.

He never elaborated on that thought**, **no matter how much he was asked about it or how much he had drunk.

She observed him carefully when he was in the public. Most of the times it being the Mead Hall. He took always the same, far-away table and he always sat at the edge of it. Even then, he was the centre of attention,however, not appearing to enjoy it. He nervously looked at the door as if wanting to leave soon, appearing to be in permanent state of deep pondering. His mind seemed to be somewhere else; he was isolating himself from everyone else.

It all did not add up. The only real impression of the boy she could create was that of a reluctant warrior. He was far too original with his ideas and mind-set to fit into the typical Berk community. He showed his inner strength or some sort of power only when he absolutely had to. He was humble to the point that it was unendurable to watch his fake smile. Who else could be so skilled and yet not seem even remotely happy over his or her accomplishments? Ironically, he was also, undeniably, a physical weakling. Intelligence, charisma and character qualities were one side of the equation to be a good warrior, but the physical strength was the necessary other part.

Hiccup had plentiful of mind power**, **however, he lacked severely with his clumsy, bony and deeply-scarred frame.

She peered expectantly at Snotlout to give her an answer.

He did not wait long to answer her.

"Well, we all saw what he just did, babe! Without any weapon! He's just that good...man, it was awesome!" he exclaimed freely. The respect he had for his cousin was genuine. He certainly had changed his views of the scrawny boy from the weakling he had abhorred to the warrior he now looked up to," I know I'm going to have to train harder if I want to beat Hiccup next time!" Snotlout said with a honest smile on his sweaty face.

Those simplistic last few words were strangely uplifting. Astrid realized she had to try and move look to the future, not dwell on this present battle. Snotlout could say something smart every once in a while.

"So**, **I watched you today and I thought that you and I-" the fount of wisdom now used his typical "come hither" tone.

Nope- scratch that last thought. Snotlout was still an idiot.

"Forget it," Astrid answered abruptly, as she had many times before.

"No problem!" Snotlout said quickly**, **moving not to receive another blow," But you _will_ be all over me one day babe, you know it!" he said with a cheesy, wide grin**, **display the missing tooth at the back of his mouth.

"Quiet! Th' Elder is decided!" Stoick's thunderous voice erupted throughout the Ring. Gobber walked to the young warriors and asked them to line up.

The aged woman narrowed her right eye. Her left one was always partially covered with the wrinkled eyelid.

The one-armed blacksmith moved behind the nearest teen, Ruffnut and raised his hook-appendage above her bright-haired head. She did not look up at the Elder. She did not move or react in any way as the Elder shook her head.

Ruffnut was not going to the next round. Her brother, right next to her tensed openly. He and her sister had lately been the worst in the dragon training. As the title of the village loser left Hiccup, it had fallen onto the twins. Their fighting style involved sharing and trading moves between them. This, and being twins, ensured they were treated as one person. What happened to one often happened to the other.

Gobber took a step and did the same gesture with his artificial limb over Tuffnut. The teen apprehensively gazed up.

The crowd gasped as their spiritual leader moved her head from one side to another.

Tuffnut took it with a brave face, his lips trembling.

Astrid got an approving nod. Snotlout and Hiccup**, **as well. The crowd was at its loudest as Gobber gestured over the young inventor.

Last was Fishlegs, holding his burned side with his hand, grimacing.

Gothi studied the young man's eyes deeply before she shook her head slowly.

Fishlegs acknowledged it with a sigh as if he had expected it. He had been just a moment too slow, yet that mistake had cost him his dream.

The life of Berk Vikings circulated over the idea of the ultimate victor, selection of the best, competition. Glorification of strength and aggressiveness. Kids needed had their heroes to exalt, to see the light of meaning in death strengthened by the religion.

Live and die proudly. Kill and slaughter without mercy; you were born for this, and you would die for this.

Fishlegs knew Hiccup was _The One_. Hiccup would go forward and stomp on all their dreams and crush their hopes. But it was for their own good.

However, it was not easy for Hiccup to acknowledge his victory. Right now, he regretted scratching the Nadder under its chin, even if that action saved the beast from being killed in battle.

Hiccup had acted on instinct as if the blue-scaled creature needed protecting.

Stupid automatic reactions!

Hiccup felt absolute shallowness in the cries of the crowd and the trappings of the arena, felt utter repulsion to them all. This feeling of revulsion grew within him more and more as he heard the people fanatically yelling his name.

He turned his head for a split moment before he was abducted by the crowd, feeling anger at himself, his people, his whole world and,especially**, **at the deceitful Nadder. The dragon had the power to change things, to show dragons were something different. The dragon could repair what Hiccup could not.

The usually curly smirk on the scaled muzzle faded as Hiccup felt the beast's mind brushing over his.

The youth repeated the thing he told himself uncountable times before.

_It shouldn't be like this...it is not how it's meant to b_e...

Perhaps, those people he lived with for so long.

Perhaps, they really could not be saved.

The crowd clapped after the selection was done. The commotion ceased as Stoick raised his hands with a beamish smile.

"Thank ya fo' witnesin' one of th' most glorious moments these young and talented people will have in their lives! But it is just one moment of many to come!" he boomed and the spectators awarded those words with thunderous applause. The Chieftain had to raise his hands again," May those who lost not dwell in sorrow but treat this as a learnin' experience!" he gestured to the young people in the arena.

The image was spoiled with Gobber behind them, dragging the Nadder to his cage by the tail.

" Though ya leave the competition now, still ya three showed tremendous courage and skills today**,** an' as a leader of th' villagean' as part of my chieftian responsibilities, I'm goin' t' give ya yer Viking names now!" he exclaimed**,** and the crowd erupted in joy.

"Fishlegs!" Stoick shouted**,** addressing the tall boy," For yer tale-worthy strength ya shall be known from this day forth as _'Fishlegs th' Brawny!'_"

Everybody accepted it, loudly expressing the importance of the moment. The herculean boy's numerous family members were the loudest.

"Ruffnut! For yer braveness when facing the danger**,** from this day forth ya shall be known as _'Ruffnut th' Undaunted!'"_ the red-bearded leader yelled.

The newly named Viking female warrior did not look too moved by the ceremony.

"Finally...Tuffnut! Ya shall be named after th' character quality we all know ya best by! From this day forth**, **ya shall be known as _'Tuffnut the Mischievous!'_ " The Chieftain bellowed and sat on his stone throne, now turning to peer with pride at his son.

It was a happy moment for most of the people and that was how the first Qualifying Ring Fight ended.

* * *

There was one thing the Vikings were better at than killing**, **and that was partying.

An abudance of barrels with mead stood in rows by the walls. The Mead Hall was close to full**, **as in every fight celebrating the young warriors. A small band played vigorously on the flutes and lyre**, **and people danced lively in pairs or in circles. One of the dancers, a young maiden**, **was thrown into the air by her partner and squealed in excited joy. Everybody was happy to be there and enjoy the festivity, to be alive.

Hiccup, however, was not. He sat at the biggest table in the whole building, one probably dragged out from some dusty storage room only for that occasion.

He had survived such parties before, but they had never been weighted down with such thoughts. The source of his enormous misery was sitting right next to the youth's slouched frame.

Stoick was an excellent host of the party. He beamed with energy and pride, smile never disappearing his face. It was such a refreshing change from his usual stern demeanour, and the community caught the mood of their leader.

However, it would be selfish to say that it was a party to celebrate Hiccup only. Whole families came not only for the most promising future dragon slayer, but also for their own personal blessings of thanks; many warriors had returned from another life-threatening journey. There could be fewer better reasons to celebrate!

Hiccup decided to act calm and try not to stand out from the crowd too much.

He sat in his high, elaborately decorated in dragon sculptures and covered in a flashy green-dyed furs.

Seeing another cunning plan would probably fail**, **he instead decided to sit and accept the fate. He sat and watched idly, accepting the wishes of good future fights and pats on his mother's breastplate helmet with a fake smile.

His father now walked around the gathering, conversing with each of the warriors who had accompanied him on his quest, thanking them for their heroic input to the mission. He did not forget about the few families who had lost their closest ones in the duration of the search. He seemed genuinely interested in every and each of his warriors, listening carefully to them. However, even with another unsuccessful nest-hunt mission, he still beamed in the utter support of his views and the utmost necessity to one day find and destroy the sharp-fanged plague.

It was amazing to see such strong faith the Berk Vikings had in Hiccup's father.

"You all right?" a croaky voice sounded next to him. Hiccup smiled sincerely.

"Never better, Ruff...how about you?"he said, trying not to sound too worried. He enjoyed her company and did not want to scare her away by asking any awkward questions. He had to think carefully what to say all the time as social savoir vivre was not something he excelled at.

As the first part of the incoming answer Ruffnut stretched her tall body, covered in her elegant, long, ankle-length, light-yellow dress. Hiccup also liked how tightly the garment lay on the girl's body. Her hair were knotted in one, long lock ending by her lean, lower back. He had to keep his eye line straight.

Lack of night training with Toothless was taking its tool on him and he was having certain dreams again.

"It's finally over for me," the blonde adolescent girl said with a smile. Hiccup waited for further explanation.

"It's...over?" he repeated flatly.

"The fights: I was tired of them," she said simply, not being even a tad abashed.

"R-really? That's...good," Hiccup said cautiously.

He agreed in his heart with that statement and hoped she might share some of his other opinions on this futile fighting," You're tired of all skull bashing every Viking might desire because...?" he asked.

"... Because... I want to dance," Ruffnut stated and grabbed the nearest male near her.

Hiccup happened to be that nearest male.

"W-what are you doing?" Hiccup huffed as he was dragged by his hand to the centre of the Hall.

"What is it looking like I am doing?" the leading girl asked sarcastically.

"Planning to humiliate me in front of the tribe?" the young Viking said with irony.

Ruffnut stopped abruptly and turned to him, raising her eyebrow dangerously.

"Hiccup. Are you saying that when a stunningly beautiful maiden like me is asking you to dance it is something disgraceful to you?" she said in a serious tone.

Hiccup's jaw dropped as he forgot how to speak. He wheezed out a monosyllable.

"I thought so," Ruffnut said calmly but smiled victoriously. With ease**, **she forced Hiccup's stiff hand to her hip. The unfortunate- or fortunate- boy (it depends on your point of view), had shivers running up his spine.

Embarrassingly, he did not have a lot of expertise with girls and touching them was an alien zone for him.

"Dancing is generally much easier to enjoy if you start moving instead of staring," Ruffnut advised, waiting for her dance partner to move. She had a pleasant smile on her face, not in the least angered or mortified with the awkward teen.

It took just two carefully- measured steps for Hiccup to start stomping onto the cheerful girl's brown boots. What surprised him, however, was that Ruffnut was repaying him with the same behaviour.

"Ouch!" the prince of the dance floor wheezed through his teeth shortly after an especially painful encounter with the girl's boot," Do-do you know how to dance?" he asked not wanting to sound impolite.

"No, not really," Ruffnut said with disarming honesty and showed what appeared as a blush of shame.

"Then why-?" Hiccup attempted to ask. The feisty young lady was faster.

"Because! No more stupid questions!" Ruffnut exclaimed.

It took two "Omph"s and one "Ouch" to break the silence again.

"Where is Tuffnut?" Hiccup asked**, **unable to hold himself back. He was nervous enough with people staring at them.

"Still crying probably, but Snotty is with him**, **so he should be all right in a few days**, **give or take," Ruffnut said.

"Fishlegs is not here as well...," Hiccup said**, **something which bothered him since the big celebration had party started.

"Astrid is here**, **at least," the ash-blonde negligently, peering studiously at her red-haired male peer.

"With her dashing boyfriend," Hiccup added bitterly, losing all his humour and looking away from the girl he held.

He got his food struck especially hard with Ruffnut's sole,disturbing his tranquil moment of sadness.

"Sorry," the girl said huskily with a tone which did not have anything in common with an apology. Hiccup remained miserable as they moved unskilfully.

Ruffnut suddenly released Hiccup, pouting.

"I don't want to dance anymore," she said, moving away from the shocked boy. He felt it was his fault she was leaving, her long dress flapping as she walked smartly.

She turned back when she still was in an earshot, annoyed.

"Fleshpetal is _not_ her boyfriend! Never was and never will be!" Ruffnut said loudly over the din and turned back to the exit, saying something only she could hear.

Hiccup felt a burst of happiness at the news**, **and it enhanced his guilt about his female friend's sudden disappearance.

It was his fault that she had escaped the party. However, it had nothing to do with his dancing skills.

* * *

"The second fight will be with our old, acquaintance as well... great," Hiccup said with an exasperated sigh, throwing a twig into the fire.

The night was clear, but cold. They were now on one of the nearby islands, south from Berk. It was a small, but well-forested**, **piece of land.

Toothless had landed in the small clearing on one of a few hills in the area and written that it would be the best place for a camp**, **as the temperature was the highest there at night.

"Gothi had a chat with the gods**, **and they decided it would be the best to torment me with another Nadder round!" Hiccup said ironically as he hit another of his talking periods. Toothless took the torrent of words with stoic demeanour, lying harness-free on his side. He let the boy rest against his side and look at the clear, night sky.

As Hiccup noticed**, **the dragon took everything he said or did with cold calmness. The boy sometimes missed the more emotional version of the reptile by his side.

"When you will teach me the mind-control thingy?" he asked suddenly,the question he bombarded Toothless constantly with since he had learned about this weird ability.

Toothless grumped something what served as complete lack of interest in the interlocutor. He kept looking at the shining sky-ornaments.

Hiccup had learned quite a lot about the thing he still considered magic in every meaning of this word. Toothless called it_ the mind-control_ or the _mind training._

As the dragon explained it, dragons were taught from the time they were able how to stand to extract the power which slumbered in their psyches. The name was very accurate in giving a good insight at how it worked. Dragons were taught that the mind controls the body**, **and by gaining control over it**, **they could gain a full command not only about the muscles, but about every organ and tissue. It sounded bizarre**, **however, Hiccup would swallow even the most unusual theory. He was already far away the practiced Viking on human logic at that point. As Toothless stated**, **to master the full control over one's body needed "only" around twenty years of constant training.

And that was only the first part.

There were three stages of initiation, all with a very clear and simple borders between them.

The first stage involved the flesh control by utilising the full capability of the conscience sounded probable,at least compared to the second. The Fury wrote about it as utilising some sort of inner energy residing in the body to further strengthen the body or use it in attacks above certain limits.

This was what gave Hiccup the chills and made him afraid whenever Toothless used an ability involving that energy. However, as Toothles admitted, he was extremely inept in it as there had been no Master to teach him properly. The mysterious Fury could use only a small amount of it**, **and that it was very dangerous if used without the full knowledge about every tiny bit of one's own body.

The final level was appropriately called the Master stage. It was reserved only to those who**, **not only were able to manipulate their own body and energy in them, but could also do it to the others. This is what made the power most frightening, but also desirable. Dragon Masters could gently modify a hatchling's brains to make him or her pass the first, ravenous and vicious stage of life faster and safer.

This ability could heal the wounded and rouse the lesser experienced dragons minds to be able to use their abilities more efficiently. Masters could also use it to gain control of another dragon's actions, manipulate minds or destroy a threat without moving a claw.

If the Nadder was one who achieved such stage of mind development,it meant that he was not showing all of his power.

Toothless would not explain more. He said that he would introduce the human to it when Hiccup would be ready for it. The dragon with the missing tailfin also refused to talk about anything concerning his Nest and did not drop even a word about what and how his family died. Not as the youth needed any rationalisation for this decision. They trusted each other more than ever, however, it did not mean they had to talk about everything. Having a few secrets was a good deal between them. Hiccup did not want to talk about his mother,and Toothless did not want to talk about his past.

Fair trade.

Hiccup inhaled the aroma of the forest, dominated by the smell of pine and the resin of a nearby fallen tree. The newest and most alien sensation of all was the feeing of his friend by his side. Like a breath of life, it caressed him, comforting and strong. It was such a shame Toothless could not feel it back. He was damaged**, **and Hiccup vowed he would make Toothless whole again. One day.

_Don't shed your scales all at once or you will remain defenceless_,Hiccup thought about one of the dragon's sayings and closed his eyes, listening to the fire and wood, pulsating with its nocturnal life.

"What am I going to do, bud? I feel like I am in some sort of a trap**, **and no matter what I do**, **I end up always at the same point," he said quietly.

Toothless looked away from the stars, hearing in the voice that it was not talking just to talk any longer.

He had no words of solace to share or words of wisdom. The unswerving youth knew the answer he would receive.

So instead, he nuzzled the fine, reddish hair. The psychic sensation of somebody nearby was soothing**, **although never as soothing the actual physical touch.

To choose for himself, go after what he would desire.

They sat silent, each loyal to his own thoughts.

Hiccup did not hope that tomorrow would bring any answers. His brilliant mind did not supply him with the rational and satisfying solution, because there was no solution to his problem with the village and dragons. None which would help everybody.

His father's arrival**, **as relieving as it was to see his closest family alive and well**, **brought one resolution.

Hiccup now knew he was not big enough in every meaning of that word to change the whole culture and tradition.

Of course**, **he could risk and forcefully show how the carefully worshipped traditions were incorrect. Hiccup now knew he would have to put his life on the scale**, **and it was not worth it.

His life and life of his closest friend were not worth him dying for a community believing in war and**. **One day he would have to make that choice**;** he knew would choose Toothless over his life as a Berk Viking.

"What are _you_ thinking about?" he said to the pensive beast," Can you tell me about it?"

Hiccup sensed the soft wavering of the warm-blooded dragon's mind state. Whenever Toothless was thinking deeply about something**, **it felt like the warm wind soothing your skin on a sunny day.

The black-striped Fury cleared the bit of soil from the few, first autumn, yellowish leaves and grass and then patted the puffed earth into a solid mass to make the runes more visible. The claw started working in it with incredible speed.

Toothless had made an enormous leap with his Norse language skills**, **and he was already proficient in it.

The large paw hid the message and,whatever it was, the stealthy dragon wiped it away. Hiccup now had to know what his scaled partner thought about.

"Come on, you can tell me about it...writing could work as well," he encouraged.

Toothless smirked as if remembering an old joke. However**, **Hiccup felt the seriousness and importance of it beneath that calm mask.

The claw scribbled, slowly and with care. The inquisitive boy read the words he had seen out loud.

"Why do dragons...smile...like humans do?" he said to himself. He silenced, sensing the piercing eyes on him. He did not like the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He had to reply, had to satisfy the burning desire to know the answer to that erratic question or riddle.

"I-I do not understand," he said, looking at the well-written runes and he actually felt a heavy shame that he did not know how to help the dragon with his search for a right answer.

"I'm sorry," he apologised sincerely. Whatever Toothless looked for, Hiccup could not give it to him.

He was nuzzled gently and had his hair ruffled.

IT IS NOTHING OF GREAT SIGNIFICANCE REST AND FOCUS ON NOT DYING

The Fury wrote to him and laid his great head on his paws.

"I love your subtle way of summing things up... so charming," Hiccup said sarcastically. He wanted to see Toothless show him his gummy grin to appear as charming as Hiccup described him to be.

Sadly, the dragon did not have knack for theatrical acts.

"Good night, Toothless," the boy said, making himself comfortable and letting everything go. It was his last defence against the reality he dug in deeper and deeper.

* * *

He did not hit anything right after he woke up. He immediately tapped his helmed by his bed, listening to the dimmed metallic ding. He did it every time just after he woke up. He felt if he would not do that**, **he would have bad luck for the rest of the day. It was one of the things he always did, in secrecy**, **afraid of mockery for such bizarre beliefs. It raised his self-confidence**, **and he could face the day and others with a clear head.

Snotlout sat on his bed and touched the floor with his right foot first. It always had to be the right foot first.

He had quite a collection of the encouraging routines he did.

He used to have many more of them**;** whenever he felt bad about himself**, **he could always rely on some invented gesture which would immediately lift his mood.

He looked calmly at his reflection in the water inside the bronze bowl ornamented with dragon sculptures. Seeing his eyes, his reflecting did not cause him to burst with anger. He did not know what to call it however, but he seemed to be starting to accept himself for who he was and finding some pride in it.

He never would have expected his little cousin would make this possible. It was natural to assume nobody had expected any of what Hiccup could do.

His sword was ready, waiting for him at the wall by the door. As a reflex,he took the blade partially out and checked the sharpness with his thumb. It was only two days since the last fight**, **and he did not train and save strength.

The edge was sharp as it was two nights earlier and many years before. It was passed from generation to generation**, **and it required constant whetting as much as the dragons seemed to want to be to be "snuggled" by the sanguinary Vikings and their sharp swords.

Snotlout walked to the Ring, feeling light and confident. Real confidence in his skills, an importance he could see and feel. He loved the attention the village people displayed. All the smiles and pats, lofty speeches during the plentiful drinking toasts. He desired it and relished every moment of it.

However, through those few weeks in the training**, **he had learned something better. It became part of him as much as his weapon.

What was all the glory if there was nobody to share it with him? There were people in his team he had learned to trust and fight with and for. He found happiness in being a part of something bigger than just his dreams**;** being selfless occasionally felt better than any number of sweet words.

Hiccup never hid his opinion about Snotlout. He had told him that he was not the brightest, but that Snotlout could be the best, that he mattered.

Snotlout could not count the times he had heard such words, spoken only because he was the son of the Spitelout, the First Commander, a person everybody feared and respected. They favoured Snotlout only because of his father.

This time it was different,however, this time he _believed_. Perhaps because he heard it from the person who was supposed to hate him, somebody scrawny and seemingly useless. Who would not have faith in the words spoken as genuinely and compellingly as Hiccup spoke them? Spoken not just with the voice but also the eyes, gleaming with inner power and utmost faith.

Snotlout had always wanted to be in charge, but these last few days had shown being led did not feel so bad. It felt pleasant to trust somebody's decisions, know you were in a leader's good hands and to work for the success of the team.

He grinned to some passing girls, saluting with his black-gloved hand. They giggled**, **and one of them flushed, hiding her face beneath the basket of mushrooms she carried. Snotlout did not stop to flirt**, **though.

He marched with the stream of people, hungering to see another match**, **to the lower mountains where their centre of attraction was located.

His father and mother would be there, his teammates and his best friend. Tuffnut _had_ to be there! Snotlout had parted company yesterday with Tuffnut still in an ill mood. The twin boy had not come into equilibrium with his feelings yet.

The raven-haired youth did not have to worry for long.

He spotted Tuffnut lazing against the outside wall of the arena, looking contemptuously at the passing people, acting as it did not matter to him at all that he had been disqualified from the tournament.

"I knew that you would come!" Snotlout said happily, his grin shining with a few gaps in his teeth.

"I was in the area and**, **you know, I thought why not see the fight...you _mus_t avenge me and win this one for me!" Tuffnut said, answering the smile.

"No problem, man. I'm gonna win for you," Snotlout spoke naturally grabbing his friend by his shoulder," And for myself," he added and quickly sprinted to the construction, the door inside opening.

"Be sure to watch me!" Snotlout yelled as he ran backwards for a moment. Tuffnut raised his fist in a salute and the warrior teen averted himself, catching a glance of Astrid having last few words with her trainer/boyfriend, Fleshpetal**, **by the door.

The rumours about those two incredibly beautiful blond young warriors were many, mostly seeded by both jealous men and women.

Snotlout pouted, catching the handsome blonde man's eye and snorted.

"Hi babe! Good luck on the ring!" he shouted cheerfully as he passed the target of his affection.

Astrid smiled honestly, used to the teen's demeanour," You. too! You're going to need it!" she said after him.

Snotlout raised his thumb as he stood in the middle of the arena by the one person who was already there. Hiccup's face as he noticed his cousin, brightened and they shook hands and begun talking animatedly.

* * *

"It's time," Fleshpetal spoke softly. Astrid huffed an agreement, staring with steel-hard, blue, eyes at Hiccup.

All the time they had spent together, a lot of training and keeping their relationship strictly a teacher-pupil one, and a painfully short one outside the world of sweat and pained muscles... it had not not worked out as the young man hoped.

Their partnership had not moved forward. Certainly, the gorgeous and talented young woman spoke to him more often and was more open**, **however, it never went an elbow away from the friendship zone. Astrid guarded herself better than an injured Nightmare and knew how to escape when he wanted to talk about anything involving more than training techniques.

The only conclusion Fleshpetal had about her behaviour was that she did not want to hurt him emotionally**, **and that she had feelings for somebody else already. Of the latter**, **it was hard to decide if Astrid knew this or not. She was excellent at concealing her emotions.

If he had to make a report about what had happened between him and the spunky female Viking warrior**, **he could have summarised it in two words.

Nothing happened.

"Thank you...for everything," Astrid said and nodded her head with respect.

"Wait," he said suddenly,just before the girl left.

He outstretched his hand to her head**;** she did not flinch as he corrected her headband.

"Now, you can go," he said, smiling charmingly.

Astrid nodded once more and rushed to her fight.

To Fleshpetal**, **her actions served as parting words. It was only natural. Last night they had shared a talk about his intentions towards her. He was the one who had brought the topic himself, not able to hide the shame and guilt. His feelings had grown to to care about her. More than he had expected.

In one way, the gossip surrounding him was correct. He never took any special measures to hide the truth**, **anyway. His family had arranged before he was born a marriage with a girl in the nearby clan. He was destined to marry a woman he did not know anything about. It was not tragic**, **as such "deals" happened often in Berk. You had to think about your future and your family's future and making sure your family had good support and allies, and marriage was an important way to secure that secure future. What pained him the most was the fact that he would have to leave the place he loved more than anything, that he would be separated from the people and place he wanted to protect.

Yet he realized he could not be as cold as he wanted to be to the girl he had intended only to use to stay on Berk. He just could not do it.

Astrid had stupefied him with her answer to his confession. She actually had already known about it, had heard the gossip and could observe something had been bothering him deeply. She was intelligent enough to deduce the rest and kind enough to keep it to herself.

Why? Because she believed in him that he would not do anything which would oppose the Viking honour code. That was what he had taught her in the training sessions, his warrior's hands and arms speaking the words for him as he taught her to be a better warrior.

It was then when he fell for Astrid. And, yet, it was then when he knew he had to give up on her.

Fleshpetal stood at the upper level of the Kill Ring**, **almost impossible to distinguish from the human mass.

Calmly, he gazed down, letting himself blend further into the background.

* * *

The Silly Story Professional Writers' Guild requires all members to include at least 2% content to be dramatic stories in order to maintain membership and use the quality-assured "Silly Story". This is due to pressure from the Emo Fanfic Lobbyists.

She waited patiently until he was finally alone. He guarded his privacy extremely well, never leaving his partner's side, and he was always displaying the goofy smile and even goofier words. Finally, she caught him alone as he went to drink from the nearby stream.

Since their last meeting, he had not appeared to age at all, and just as she had not. Time was different for them. It separated their species permanently from the normal life-stream.

"Toothless," Kropka said softly. The blue-purple Fury yanked his head from the water, droplets still hanging from the muzzle. He acted surprised though she was sure he had heard her approaching.

"You've come to stalk me! Nobody can resist my cuteness!" Toothless said triumphantly with his trademark, toothed smile.

"Hiccup is not here...," Kropka said calmly.

The effect was immediate.

The male dragon's goofy act faded away. He did not look at the dragoness**;** instead he continued drinking with small, measured sips.

"Toothless," the female Fury with the single white spot on her forehead called gently again, afraid to scare the other dragon away.

"That's my name**!**" the addressed reptile spoke**,** attempting to smile. Now his smile looked more like a tick of his lips than anything more natural.

"How have you been?" Kropka asked, taking a step closer.

"Flying around...saving the world...the usual," Toothless answered, avoiding the full explanation, tensing.

"So I have heard," the female Fury said**,** unable to hide the sorrow in her voice, looking at the red, artificial tail-fin. Toothless quickly hid it out of sight.

"I missed you," Kropka spoke**,** now without any warning.

The downed dragon now wished he was facing the Red Death again**;** Against the flying demon he could stand a chance. Against the dragoness' words he could not.

Kropka said as gently as she could, "It has been a long time since we have talked to each other and I have heard what happened to your mate."

Toothless did not seem to sadden at the words. Not visibly. Instead, he looked at his reflexion,distorted by the soughing water. He did not say anything.

"Why are you not being more forthcoming since you were the one to join the expedition knowing fully well I will be here. You would not have done it if you would not need to be here. Perhaps you finally want to come out of your shell**, **and... if you need somebody I-**,**" Kropka said with summoned courage, stepping even closer.

"I missed you as well," Toothless chimed in. It sounded rushed, a bit too loud for it to sound fully genuine.

The female Fury curled a hopeful smile on her muzzle as the other Fury spoke.

" I wanted to see you, to see somebody I knew. To feel normal again... I value friends like you too much to lose them," Toothless said heavily**,** not meeting the other pair of eyes. He looked hurt and guilty.

"Yes, friends are too important to lose," Kropka said quickly and pressed her forehead against the side of Toothless's head .

None of them spoke or broke the contact.

It was somebody else who disturbed the moment.

Hiccup walked in from the bushes, whistling to himself with an axe on his hand looking for the wood he could fuel the fire with.

He almost fell as he saw what was in front. He sucked in his breath and uttered an apology.

Kropka pulled her head away and walked away, passing by the boy with great dignity and nodding her head, not explaining anything.

Neither the young man nor Toothless ever talked about it again.

The dragon's green eyes at that moment said more than enough.

* * *

"Oh baby baby! Ohhhhh!"

Those sounds echoed through the apartment where Hiccup lived.

It was early morning**,** and he could not sleep thanks to his overactive friend.

"Baby**,** ooh baby!"

Toothless was loud- extremely loud**.**

Hiccup wished he had a quick way to drive something into his skull and end the suffering if it would not involve pain and a lot of clean up for the medics that would come.

The nearest dangerous object was a banana, lying on the table by the bed.

"Come on baby**,** light my fire!" Toothless yelled at top of his lungs.

A loud knocking from the ceiling answered.

The reddish**-**haired male sighed and got himself up. The dragon was not called the Night Fury without a reason. The word "Night" indicated**,** well, that it was active at night. Hiccup could not wait for the afternoon**,** when _he_ would be most active and Toothless would be drooling, asleep.

One empty pot and a sauce spoon would play an important part in Hiccup's revenge.

"Faster! Stronger! Something-something! Harder!" Toothless shouted without any reservation.

The angered human, pumped with a dusk fury (no pun intended)**,** slammed the door open**,** revealing the source of All That is Evil.

"Would you PLEASE stop singing when you are in the shower for once?" Hiccup yelled and slammed the door closed.

* * *

Toothless slept soundly, snorting lightly and breathing peacefully. He wore his favourite sleeping cap with a large, black bobble at the end.

Hiccup kneeled and affectionately pressed the dragon's nostrils together. He waited until the Fury would start wiggling and breathing through the mouth without awakening. Toothless was a heavy sleeper**,** and almost nothing could wake him up.

Hiccup smiled in a way which would make most serial murderers flush in shame.

He now rejected the idea of Sweet Revenge by using the kitchen items**;** no, he had a_ much_ better idea**!**

He took a camera connected to his laptop and a small bowl full of warm water. With a fiendish smile he chuckled devilishly and put the filming device on a tripod. He calibrated it to catch the slumbering creature.

He took the laptop and wrote the file's name, talking to himself.

"_How to Train Your Dragon...to Behave_," he murmured and**,** after a couple of thoughtful seconds**,** he added one word," _How to Train Your __Useless__ Dragon to Behave_...perfect_!_" he congratulated himself.

After that, he turned the camera on and took the bowl with water. He put it by the Fury's side and put his tail tip inside.

Now he only had to wait. It would probably anger Toothless and make him think of yet another way to make Hiccup's life more miserable**; **however, every male friend resorted to pranks and physical violence from time to time**,** and Hiccup was no different in that department.

* * *

A pair of hatefully peering reptilian eyes stared at the scrawny man who ate his dinner: a few boiled frankfurters with ketchup. Toothless was not happy, not happy at all.

"I am not happy," he announced for the fifth time," And I won't be the one to pay for washing the carpet.

"Ok," Hiccup answered negligently taking a small bite. He knew that he had been victorious in that situation. The smell from his little "prank" was filling the flat**, **and since he, a human**, **could smell it, it must have been torturous for the dragon.

It was seen on Toothless's muzzle**;** he gagged occasionally and breathed through his mouth. Finally after a growl, the dragon left the kitchen. Soon, Hiccup heard the front door shutting and the distinct sound of the carpet being removed.

He smirked and finished his meal. He was on his way to the bathroom when he remembered something crucial. He sprinted to the anteroom his track field prosthetic working well and took his wallet from the small table. As he suspected, his credit card was missing.

"Toothless!" he yelled as loudly as he could**, **raising his hands in a promise of vengeful revenge.

* * *

"Hello**.** I would like the Super-Hyper-Double-Dumbo carpet washing with extra drying and a little change to the carpet...gold embroidery saying **'**Toothless ownz.**'** With a 'Z' at the end. Also, I would like to pay with credit card if it is not the problem," Toothless said with a cheerful smile to the laundry shop clerk girl**, **who looked at the Fury with an open mouth. She seemed perplexed that somebody wanted to spend so much money for a rug that smelled like somebody had pissed on it.

"I almost forgot," the dragon said suddenly," Do you have any gold sleeping caps on sale here?"

* * *

**AN**: Do not attempt the manoeuvres above on your own dragons**, **please. I would get tons of emails from angered reptiles**, **and know I already can be sued at any time for making fun of the name 'Bluebell' in one of my silly stories. (And, yes, I added a bit of drama into the silly story. Why? Because I can.)

A few more chapters and we will be done with the movie events. I am actually very happy**; **it took much longer than I ever expected**, **and nothing makes me happier than writing my own, original plot and characters. See you all later.


	27. The Test

AN: To battle!

* * *

There was nothing he could hide behind, nothing he could use as a protection. He had waited for the enemy to act; however, the Nadder surprised him once more.

The Arena was empty from all obstructions. The sole weapon rack stood by the left hand-side of the entrance and was the only protection the warriors could have used. Obviously, none of them had thought of leaving the rock-engraved floor.

The battle had started just a trice before and the dragon had to avoid the first, lightning strike. Snotlout missed a terrible downward swing with his sword, accenting it with a heavy thud of his front leg. The Nadder opened his maw and lunged forward, his neck straightening quick as a whip.

The young "boy wonder" did not block the powerful strike. His body remembered that it was not humanly feasible to deflect the hit, using the shield he had strapped to his left forearm. Humans were not strong enough to block every dragons' attack. Snotlout had learned to respect his enemy and had thrown away the usual Viking attitude to ridicule and look down on the dragons.

If you did not respect your foe you were only perpetuating the ignorance and people with such an attitude would not live long on the battlefield.

Those were Hiccup's words; actually they had come from one of the books the scrawny youth had studied.

Knowledge was useful occasionally.

Snotlout's body spun to the right with excellent footwork and undisturbed balance. The dragon's head almost grazed against the youth's dirty-yellow tunic. The yellow, slit eye, gigantic in front of the boy's face, stared at him. Both dragon and youth gazed at each other the instant they came in contact.

Being less intelligent had its advantages. Snotlout did not have time to think about how terrified he was- or what effect on his body the dragon's eyes had.

He moved without thinking. His right hand unwound, fingerless, brown glove squeezed on the weapon's handle tighter, the blade making a full circle. As he did not have time to feel fear, he did not feel astonished as the very tip of his sword sliced through the Nadder's muzzle, from the upper lip to the nose, marking it with a long, but shallow cut.

The contact broke; Snotlout rolled to the side, avoiding whatever counter-attack the dragon would come up with. He did not have to avoid any strike, as, when he took a step away, Astrid took his place. She unrelentingly swung her axe, pelting the Nadder with swings and lightning fast strikes.

The blade glistened with sharp turns, all of them aimed at the scaled muzzle, and all of them never reaching the target.

The loudest sounds were the sudden exhales from the female warrior.

Snotlout waited for his turn to spar, face determined and focused.

Hiccup could only stand and watch the show, dreading more with every passing bit of time. Why was the Nadder not going for him and ending the fight already? The battle had only just started, yet how sluggishly it passed was unbearable for him.

He decided to focus the dragon's attention on him, even if Hiccup had to force it.

If only he could move.

His sudden disability did not come from his mental condition; he was as calm as he could be.

_Oh... no,_ Hiccup thought, stiff on his legs. He could not even move his eyeballs or blink, numb all over the body. The force was all around him, penetrating him and filling him with the ugly sensation of an alien intruder.

Hiccup, this time, would not be over-exaggerating if he said that this was bad. Apparently, he could experience one of the dragon's abilities first-hand.

Nobody from the viewers noticed anything off; their attention concentrated on the pair struggling by the wall.

The Nadder moved backwards, still dodging every strike, Snotlout keeping his distance out of respect.

A few of the spectators booed him for not using the opening and striking out to gain victory. He did not even look at the ones who jeered him. Snotlout wanted to win, only not in this way, and especially not if Astrid was endangered.

Blood dribbled slowly from the Nadder's cut snout, splashing on the stone floor, making a path of small, red dots as he moved backwards in measured and strong steps. His swinging, quill-standing tail hit the wall.

Astrid's eye sparkled, noticing the chance. She had cornered the beast, and she would not let such an opportunity slip away. The axe rose above her head, her blue gaze visualising the dragon being hit.

Hiccup observed from the corner of his eye the foul-smelling Nadder, its stench a mixture of fermented fish and dragon's excrement.

The Nadder flicked his head quickly, and then something in the girl's breathing changed, one unrhythmical breath, sticking out uglily from all of the perfectly practiced moves she had shown so far.

Astrid's trusted weapon swung as she intended... and she missed. She almost fell backwards and spat out the blood from her mouth, eyes shut. She forced them to open again, covered in blood as her eyelids were. She gagged, trying not to vomit; this "alien" liquid in her mouth tasted so similar to the blood she remembered sucking from her own cut finger.

The Nadder could not use anything to defend himself... or so Astrid hoped; she would not be caught off-guard like before, was when she had almost been cut in half. She had underestimated the enemy, then.

As the dragon jerked his head, she was splashed with more blood from the wound Snotlout had inflicted on the dragon spraying her from chest to forehead. For a shred of a heartbeat, she did not pay attention, blinded and confused. She felt dread, that instinctive sense of grave danger she had developed throughout her life.

She knew she would not be able to raise her shield in time to protect herself. She clenched her teeth awaiting the blow.

Everything happened too fast.

She felt a gust of wind on her face and something wooden cracked. She wiped her eyes and opened one of them. In shock, she saw Snotlout in front of her, holding his shield over himself, contending with the Nadder who pressed on the buckler with his horn.

Arm muscles veined heavily from the pressure, the boy used all his strength, persistently keeping the shield up. Before he could strike with the sword, he found himself almost kneeling from the dragon's forceful motions. He immediately dropped his weapon and pushed with his right hand against the shield, until, his whole body shaking, he managed to stand up again.

"Astrid... now!" Snotlout gasped, feeling himself lose the struggle for power again. His shield creaked louder, and several splinters from the ever-widening crack struck against his helmet.

Astrid hesitated; she did not want to win in this fashion.

"Astrid... fuck it... NOW!" Snotlout yelled, his knee almost touching the floor. He would not hold out much longer.

Human flesh, in that case, proved to be stronger than reinforced wood. The shield shattered in two. At the same moment, the heavy axe swung above the broken shield and plunged forcefully, fully immersing its blade into the dragon's white horn.

Astrid deliberately did not aim well; the axe blow was meant to repel the savage creature and it served its purpose.

With the axe embedded in his horn, the Nadder paced away, snapping it away from the girl's grasp and shaking his head. To an outsider just joining the fight, the dragon with an axe-handle sticking out from its muzzle-horn could have looked laugh-worthy. To the young female Viking, it was gruesomely horrifying.

Time was not on her side and something told Astrid that, if she did not finish the fight then, she would not be able to see another day.

Seeing that Snotlout was alive, grabbing his left shoulder without any visible sign of injury, Astrid approached the boy's dropped sword. She put her shoe tip beneath the reddish sword's cross-guard and kicked it upwards from the ground. When it stopped its ascent at the level of her chest, she caught up the handle. With an eye-escaping twirl, she tossed the weapon at the dragon.

The sword revolved the short distance and was snapped just before it dug itself into the flesh by none other than the Nadder's jaws.

"Mother of ..," the rest of Snotlout's insult was drowned in the loud growl as the dragon ground its fangs on the weapon. However, even with the powerful bite of the beast, the sword's sharp edge did not break.

Shock spread through the human contestants.

Hiccup, frozen in place, saw the Nadder look down on the item it was holding between its jaws, armed with pointed fangs. Almost implicitly the dragon smirked, chucking the weapon away with a careless swing of his head.

The Nadder then slammed the pesky axe handle ornamenting his muzzle, breaking its connection away and, after a last look at the warriors ahead of him, he ran away.

All of this took no longer than the time to blink twice.

Astrid, without any weapon, and Snotlout, with his left arm injured, both awaited the incoming attack. Normally, the competitive girl would have run to the weapon rack to get another deadly tool; however, she owned something to the heavy-breathing male behind her, and she made sure her sleek body blocked the path between herself and Snotlout.

If there was anyone who would run away, it was the Nadder.

Raising a small puff of dust, the powerful legs took the dragon away to the last of the challengers he still had to test.

Hiccup's head exploded with pain, and his vision tunnelled. His body moved forward on its own. He could not control anything; he was an observer, and he had the best possible seat for the performance. If he were not forcefully controlled by the antediluvian being, he might have actually enjoyed the show.

Who would dislike fighting a dragon with his bare hands?

And winning.

Hiccup ran with a speed nobody could have expected him to achieve and, a few steps away, the scrawny boy jumped forward and punched the dragon right into the chest with his fist.

The echo of that strike was heard far beyond the Ring.

The force behind that tiny hand, looking even tinier from away the chain-fence, actually stopped the running dragon on spot. Fast as a wind gust, Hiccup jumped up lightly and his body twisted vertically in the air. The breeze around his now- blurry foot whistling, Hiccup kicked the Nadder right on the massive head.

His own moves, again, seemed enchanted to Hiccup.

The dragon did a step to the side, almost losing his balance; only his flexible frame keeping him standing. All of Hiccup's strikes had been real. They were not faked, and the power of their blows was not diluted; they were supposed to crush anything in their path and destroy.

The Nadder took a step to keep the balance; however, he was not hurt.

Amazingly, for Hiccup, he did not feel any pain from his humanly-impossible attacks. He had adjusted to the shock of suddenly not being in the control of his own body and went with the flow of now, miraculously, having implicit superhuman power that had flared up when he had wanted to use his will to punish the dangerously incomprehensible beast.

If _he is controlling my body, doesn't that mean, then, that the Nadder_ _is actually hitting himself?_ Hiccup thought, analysing his bright-coloured enemy. With that eye-opening disclosure of some very unhealthy dragon's practice, he felt the constricting and controlling super power leave him.

His perfect backward summersault went a bit sloppier as, along with his free-will, his unmatched, personal abilities and clumsiness kicked right back in.

He crashed against the unforgiving, cold floor, lying flat, defenceless. He rolled out instantly from where he landed, barely avoiding the clawed, heavy leg crushing several of the stones above which the boy had his head.

That was not the end of the fear-fraught experience. A bright flame laminated the youth's aching, paralyzed sides, passing in vengeful torrents.

Then he was aware of somebody protecting him. He_ knew_ the sound of that blow flames made against fireproof hide and, as the scorching tempest stopped, he recognized the rumbling hissing of the shield-covering material. It was heating to such a temperature that, if anyone touched it, he or she would have left parts of their skin on it.

Accelerated breaths and trained steps heralded the last battle of that day.

Hiccup, against his deepest wishes could not get up, all of his body hurting and sucked out of energy, his knuckles stinging as they had bits of skin scrubbed off, his lungs burning with every inhalation.

He should have known that such outburst of power did not come without a price or stress on his organism.

Hiccup lifted his head up with diminishing energy. His eyes widened, momentarily forgetting about everything.

Astrid and the Nadder... they showed, undoubtedly, the most skilful demonstration of both dragon and Viking warrior abilities. It was conspicuous. All the steps were planned, predicted.

Loose, free-flowing gold hair ravishingly streaked through the air as the extraordinary girl pirouetted to the left. The blue, magnificent dragon only avoided her by pulling himself backwards. They came so close they almost brushed against each other, frozen in a moment when it appeared as if they would embrace each other.

It was not a battle. It was a dance. It could not have been spontaneous. Just for that instant, it looked beautiful.

It terminated with Astrid getting knocked away with a swing of the wing and, slowly as a breaking tree, the Nadder fell onto one side, his monolithic chest moving as he panted, his yellow, slit eye, spotted with thin, red veins staring at the now-awkwardly standing young woman. One of her spiked epaulets dropped from her shoulder, carrying the signs of the extensive damage, spotted in dragon's blood.

Astrid now had that blood from face to hips in massive rusty spots and stains as if she had butchered something.

Stoick boomed loudly in trill, the content of the message escaped everybody in the arena, too occupied following the events in the arena. All of them looked at the fallen dragon, not connecting to the world outside, as though what they saw was a dream.

The gate crashed open, and a few bulky dragon handlers rushed forward, securing the Nadder.

A big, rough hand gripped and then lifted Hiccup's back from the floor with unmistakable gentleness. It took a longer moment for the youth to comprehend any stimuli, to separate touch from sound, create a small island of indifference in the mangled ocean of stagnation.

_Why is Gobber looking at me so worriedly_? Hiccup thought calmly, _I am not dying or anything_, he reasoned, and the world clouded into absolute pitch blackness. Hiccup fell into himself, losing sight of the man who screamed down to him with a concerned voice.

He did not see or hear, even, the sound of his breath silenced.

So why did he see light?

Brightness. The spiralling wisps of light. At first, they were faint and vague; however, with every moment they gained clarity and created the silhouette of a dragon.

The pearly brightness flickered or pulsated. It was within the Nadder's body and around it. Hiccup saw the same monotone luminescence around himself, swirling lazily, immersing his body as a white smoke or breath. It was warm and so beautiful.

He relaxed, letting the light get deeper into him. For something so beautiful he did not need to go back; he could only stay there and disappear. He was becoming the mesmerising glow. He did not know if he was still there, if he even existed. Just a bit more. Just a bit longer.

A sharp sound, almost disapproving, echoed distantly distorting the light.

Hiccup took a deep breath and saw the world again. Suddenly, the sunlight, aggressive compared to what he had just seen, was intolerable.

He inhaled greedily, as if surfacing after a very long sea dive. He grabbed the cloth of the man holding him and talking to him loudly.

"Hiccup, ar' ya there? Answer me!" the Viking was shouting, bright eyes widened in fear.

The boy smiled weakly, "G-Gobber," he whispered.

"I thought- well, damn, I don't know what I thought there, lad. Ya looked like ya were out fo' a few moments...and, to be honest, ya don't look so well," the blacksmith said, looking directly at the youth's face.

"I'm fine," Hiccup said, now struggling to stand up on his own, "I really am," he assured with greater strength, noticing the disbelief on his friend's face.

He really felt better. He first looked at his hands. They were light-coloured, as if they belonged to a corpse, not to a living man. He pulled his sleeve down and saw that his forearm appeared to be the same paleness. He probably looked like this all over his body.

There was no question why Gobber looked so scared.

He immediately looked to Astrid. She had been able to stand up without any help; however she was as unnaturally pale as he was. Her vibrant blue gaze almost pierced with intensity, standing out from the rest of her pale complexion.

Snotlout looked white also, and he also did not any help to stand up. However, he had colours returning to his face, even as Hiccup looked at him.

They all had gone through that similar, weird experience without any permanent damage. All of the bruises and cuts would heal. However, the scars they left would remind the body of that fight, just like their minds would never forget about what happened.

The Nadder walked slowly to his cage, wings facing down, escorted by the few warriors not wasting a moment to jab the beast with their weapons to move him faster. The dragon accepted the push without any reaction, yet not increasing his pace. He stood with his back to everybody as the cage closed behind him.

Hiccup could not feel anything from him. The memory of the breathtaking vision was already moving into the back of his mind.

His father, after seeing that he and the other dragon-fight participants were in a condition enabling them to stand and listen to him, ordered for the events to proceed.

The Elder made the Choosing, and the ritual was performed, as it had been since the foundation of the village.

Hiccup heard applause and saw his father raise his fist yelling "That's my boy!" in joy.

That meant Hiccup had passed this session. As if he cared much at that point.

Hiccup studied each and every face, all of them twisted in a lunatic smile. None of them had seemed to notice anything extraordinary. Most likely, they did not want to see.

Astrid would meet with Hiccup on the ring again.

Snotlout however, would not have such luck.

The scrawny inventor found himself happy for his cousin. Snotlout would not have to risk his life going on in this mindless battle.

Hiccup turned to him to offer the wordless assurance. His soft smile was not needed, though.

"Snotlout the Unrelenting" the boy had heard, not taking much interest in the message.

The newly named Viking raised his fist in the gesture reserved for victors and absorbed all of the praise pouring down at him.

Not everybody was responding to the young man's wishes shouting their congratulations.

Some had their faces showing pure condemnation, some irritation going from anger to mild condemnation. It was the first time any young Viking contender had helped another to succeed in the Kill Ring qualifying exams, at the expense of his own victory.

The qualifying rounds were a test of individual skills, not a continuation of the teamwork training.

Snotlout should not have aided the girl. The danger she placed herself in was her fault alone, and she should have paid for the consequences of her actions, even if that meant her death.

Hiccup's knuckles whitened, and his palm folded as he was exposed to such comments sprouting out from the grey mass of nobodies.

The Chieftain stood up from his throne, announcing the end of the ceremony.

The boy felt a gust of wind behind him and saw Astrid running as if Jörmungandr himself was biting her toes.

_So much for being first hitting the exit, _he noted to himself, using irony to relieve his anger.

It did not help much.

"She did not even say 'thank you'," Hiccup said angrily to one particular person.

"I don't care," Snotlout said, taking up his sword from one of the spectators who did not mind him saving a life, "Thanks!" he said to one of the dragon handlers who entered the Ring and handed him his fallen blade before moving to secure the Nadder.

"You look awfully cheerful and carefree for somebody who has just lost," Hiccup responded, with a bit of venom in his voice. Happiness currently pissed him off, and he did not react well to any of its display.

He was cognisant of Gobber standing behind him and listening to him, probably still concerned about his recent physical state. As much as he respected the blacksmith's empathy, he preferred to be alone, now.

The dragon-bonded human could have ended the conversation with his cousin and let his psyche be stabilised by Toothless.

However, he did not do so. He stayed and continued exploring the topic. He still could not comprehend the Vikings' stupidity and Snotlout's happy-go-lucky smile.

"I did not lose anything, Toothpick," the sword-master said dryly, as if it was something obvious.

"You did _lose_ the fight," Hiccup said, accenting the l- word any self-praising-self-loving young Viking would have hit his face for.

Snotlout's smile abated instantly, but that look was not replaced by any expression of arrogant self-respect.

"I said I don't care," he spoke in a tone which scratched the border of being very dangerous," I lost the fight, but I did not lose Astrid!" he did not say it loudly, but still with such power that it shook Hiccup inside, "Get a grip of yourself Haddock. I expected more from you," Snotlout hissed with a disdaining huff.

Twisting from guilt to fury, Hiccup stepped up to Snotlout and grabbed him by his tunic.

"Who are you to talk to me like that?" he whispered, his green eyes shining as turquoise flames, "You do not know how many times I saved you! You did not feel what I felt today, or perhaps you did but you prefer to ignore it," Hiccup placed his mouth to Snotlout's ear so he could only hear him, "Did you see the light, Snotty? You _were _touched by that light, weren't you?" he said with what looked like an insane smile to anyone who had not met Hiccup before.

Snotlout pushed Hiccup away forcefully, looking scared and confused. He quickly hid these emotions though, donning his practised mask of smugness. Without sharing any other word with today's victor, he stepped to the exit, chin up and proud.

The smaller of the two breathed deeply, the wrath making him shake. He found consolation in one belief. He refused to think that there was absolutely nobody who was affected by what happened in the Ring. He still had some hope, a small light of hope still burning in his heart.

There had to be somebody.

* * *

Astrid fell to her knees by a spring after a backbreaking sprint from the Arena. She finally was out of the public view. There was nobody to see her shaking body and how she crawled to the freezing-cold water and plunged her head into it.

But it was not enough to freeze her thoughts. She still saw images of something she should not have seen. Was it a hallucination or had she hit her head and did not remember it? It felt too real, the presence of something inside her. It was disgustingly terrifying!

She pulled her head up and spat out the water that had flowed into her mouth. She and took off her shirt and started scrubbing her face with it, putting all her strength behind the movements.

She still could not get the taste and feeling of the dragon's blood away from the inside of her mouth and from her skin. Usually, she would not have minded to have it on her or to see it; this time it was wrong. It felt wrong.

She was never scared more in her life, feeling helpless as a child, without any answers.

Her bandage-bound chest and breasts spasmed as she put her face into her blood-marked hands and let out a yell, screaming long and as hard as she could, hoping nobody would hear her muffled cries.

Against logic, she only hoped there was somebody else who had experienced what she had. That she was not going crazy and imagined the dragon in a form of light.

There _had_ to be somebody!

* * *

Hay was the most interesting item on the world.

Cracks in the wall had been amusing for the first three days of his captivity. Memorising scale patterns on the pelts of dead dragons had been enough to last him only seven sun cycles. He could always close his eyes and listen to the memories. He did that, of course. This had satisfied him for five years. Later, it became annoying and, finally, insufferable. There was only so much one's mind could keep inside, and he had to stop analysing his every decision, unless he wanted to become mad. He had a strong mind, far stronger than had anticipated, and only a bit weaker than his enemies thought.

Were any of his enemies still alive?

It was so long since he had heard about one. He certainly did not remember any. Not anymore.

The blood still dropped from above the Nadder's jaw in peaceful pace, rhythmical and natural, flowing from his lip and horn.

It was food for his mind. This was how a normal wound acted. He could not make the blood coagulate faster by slowing his heartbeat. He had used all his power in combating the young humans who fought him. Every last bit of it.

To any outside observer, he appeared healthy. The truth was...

_...Why did you do it? Why have you gone so far with them? You could have died!_ The feminine voice exploded with unveiled anger, the last sentence spoken soft and gentle.

The Nadder did not answer quickly, still reckoning the hay as more thought-capturing than the upcoming conversation.

_I did what I have always been doing. I tested their Activation capability. Also, can you use less energy when talking to me or you might brain damage me further,_ he thought informatively, cocking his head as he gazed at the day's diversion.

_You could have tested it briefly without lowering your reflexes to the point where they were close to slicing your head off! You i...-_, the extraneous voice continued.

_I feel guilty for being someone whose head actually does not regrow,_ the Nadder interrupted.

_I do not recall you using irony before...It must be Hiccup's effect on your mind_, the voice said softly.

_Correct,_ the Nadder agreed tiredly,_ I might be...unstable for the next few days_,_ as I do not have any strength left to balance my mind._

_Do you want me to shield you?_ The feminine alto asked sternly.

_Only if you want to,_ the dragon answered. He never asked for anything directly as long as he could do something himself.

_I will put you into a stabilised coma_, the voice responded instantaneously after the indirect proposal,_ I will proceed immediately...it would help if you lay down._

_I can sleep standing, and there is a good view from here,_ the Nadder thought with a feint smirk. He felt the foreign strength cause his knee to bend, numbly and he felt onto the hay he loved so much, _You do not appreciate my new sense of humour,_ he noticed grumpily.

The radiating force relaxed his muscles, and he began getting drowsy. He could trust that power as she had helped him then and a number of times he never wanted to remember, ashamed of how many times it had been, already.

_I still did not receive your explanation why you went to_ _such depths to test the kids_, the voice said, much colder than before, and very orderly. The Nadder knew he would have to answer it. She had waited until he would let her aid him and control his mind. Apparently, she had loosened up not only his body, but his mind as well. She was as clever as usual.

_Because I saw potential in them,_ he said simply, taking a deeper breath, _those three could be strong...pity they will never know what kind of power slumbers within them. At least, it was fun this time, _he yawned and got a small electric charge through his spine.

She really did not have any sense of humour.

_Hiccup could have killed you. His strikes would have killed any ordinary dragon_, the voice spoke, her tone ice cold,_ It is also your fault the boy responded to you in the fight. You were the one who programmed him to repeat the message. I still do not consider enabling the boy to deepen his abilities as a good move._

_Lucky for me_, _I am not ordinary. It was amusing to see my own defence set up in the human to attack anyone trying to take control over his mind on myself. About his abilities - if I can call those pitiful reflexions of true mind-control-_,_ I only quickened it. It would have happened eventually. Toothless was too inept to do it properly... I also had to stabilise Toothless before he became too obsessed with his toy. Besides...if our flyless friend tries to mess with... _he thought coolly. The desired cloud of black nearly sucking him in, inviting to forget about everything and he needed that badly.

_What about Astrid? _The voice asked lightly. If he could, he would never have provided the full truth for an answer. She had waited until the last possible moment of his consciousness to get veracious information.

_She can...colligate with me. I did not foresee it and she might have perceived too much from me. It's not a problem though,_ he stated laconically.

_No_,_ it's not a problem_, the voice said, after a longer pause. The Nadder breathed slowly then, unmindful to everybody and everything.

She knew that he would not be haunted by the nightmares of the past which were slowly crumbling his mind as he was locked up in such a small cage for such a long time. He could have gone out at any moment to fly again and make himself feel better; however, he stayed as he did not want to get unnecessary attention. And he enjoyed the view. Or so he said.

For the next three days she would guard and shield him from any harm. It was the least she could do for him. For the tired and old dragon everybody hated outside and spew on.

She thought of that year's group of trainees.

Not everybody hated dragons.

Would it really matter in the end?

For her it did not.

* * *

"Good evening!" Snotlout greeted happily everybody in his household as he entered to the spacious kitchen, closing the massive door behind him.

The candle on the table gave a subtle, yellow light, needed for the man who sat by it, carefully studying parchments arranged in a neat package.

"Evenin'," his father answered nonchalantly, treating the notes as something more important than looking at his son after a long and eventful day.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a whole dragon with its scales! What's in the pot today?" Snotlout questioned and immediately went to check it for himself as if he knew he would not get an answer to such obvious question, "Onion soup! My favourite!" he spoke joyfully, and took a full bowl of the pleasantly smelling dish.

He took off his helmet, showing his shaggy, black hair and sat by his father, slurping quietly. He took a piece of flat-bread from the small basket on the table and broke it.

Spitelout lifted another page to read.

"Dad...," the boy said, cutting through the quietness, "I am sorry for losing," he said quickly and went back to eating.

The seasoned leader took his eyes up from the document and looked at the shelf, still thinking about the iron and steel usage and the broken mill's water wheel they had to repair.

The scene would not have captured his attention, if not for the way his son had just said the apologising phrase. He was an observant man, and he could notice with seasoned success when somebody wanted to add something to their statement.

It was peculiar for his only child to have a desire to put anything more into his thoughts. He had always followed Spitelout's wishes and never oppugned them.

"But-?" he coaxed his son to develop his thought better.

"But I don't feel bad about it," Snotlout stated. He licked the spoon and thought for a moment.

Spitelout waited politely. It was natural that his son needed more time to dress his ideas into proper words," I mean- I know I _should I feel _bad and everything...I lost something important-it used to be something very important to me, but...it's not so much anymore," he said proudly as if finishing an excellent concept.

"Do ya know why ya hav' lost?" he asked naturally, not even a hint of anger in his voice. The truth was that Spitelout was not mad at his son, not mad at all. He had expected it to happen and truthfully he was surprised his son did not die during the training, only survived it and being the third best in the training group was not so disappointing.

He was not mad; however, he was not proud either. He saw the reason to be though; he did not feel much concerning his rowdy male child. He showed him as much affection as his own father had demonstrated him and his brother. He turned out fine so there was no reason to speculate it would not serve well for his son.

"Because I helped Astrid," Snotlout said automatically, his tone ireful.

"Yes and it's-," Spitelout started.

"It's stupid," the boy said sharply. His father's eyes glistened with curiosity, "I understand that we are supposed to fight individually and show how we developed as warriors, but it is all stupid. Aren't we taught that teamwork is most important? Where is the glory in letting others die?" Snotlout asked freely. He had never been taught to keep himself quiet in the house, and his father never had to use this rule as it was never broken.

"It might b' a tough law, but it's our law. It's how I was tested, my father was and his father was. I understand yer frustration, however, but in battle we must get rid of sentiments. Feelings on th' battlefield is a weakness. Ya need t' understand tha' bein' good an' moral, carrying is a luxury we cannot always afford. We ar' at war son," he spoke calmly and slowly as if explaining to a young child that something dead would not come back to life.

"I know that and I am not and will not show mercy to my enemy. Astrid or Hiccup were not one of them," he spoke darkly and put down the spoon, his meal half-way finished.

Spitelout waited patiently again, "I remember stories about times before I was born, how trainees challenged each other to a duel to death just to be the one to fight the Nightmare, even if in the end there was nobody left alive to fight it...I think-" he said quietly and scratched his cheek, not used to being thoughtful, "I think that following orders or traditions blindly is a sign of ignorance and you cannot be smart if you are ignorant," he recited and grinned widely.

"Is it wha' ya believe?" Spitelout asked, his tone ever-neutral.

"Yep!" the muscular teen said confidently and ate the rest of the soup with double speed.

The battle-scarred man put his hand on his son's shoulder, astonished how wide it got since he had last touched it.

"I'm proud of ya. It's th' first time ya hav' formulated yer thoughts an' supported them with a good argument. I would like t' hear more in th' future!" Spitelout smiled, genuinely feeling his cheek muscles stretch up with difficulty as he showed this unfamiliar facial expression.

He turned to read his notes again, Snotlout finishing the rest of his meal in quiet, his reddened face almost unnoticeable in the low luminosity.

The First Commander did not occupy his mind with the tasks he normally did. He pondered over how familiar his son's words sounded to a certain, small future village leader's. His son was influenced by Hiccup, and that fact alone was an insult.

However, he did not want to take away the feeling of accomplishment his sole-born felt then.

Reading about village matters was many times better than thinking about one youth spreading harmless ideas targeting the centuries-long Viking traditions and way of life.

These were only the ragings of a teenager trying to find his place, unable to fit fully into the community.

Soon, he, and his son as well, would grow out of the silly ideas of changing everything and would go with the flow of life. In their turn.

The velum rustled as Spitelout put on the table another completed page.

He really had more important things to do.

* * *

The house resounded with thunderous strikes as somebody strained the door's endurance further, knocking as if there was no tomorrow.

Stoick slowly paced, thudding loudly with heavy boots to face an intruder. Still holding a hard boiled egg in one hand from his breakfast, he opened the door and took a good look at the pacing teen.

"G'mornin' Fishlegs, what can I do fo' ya?" he asked courteously, biting into the egg and decorating his flaming-red beard with a few bits of yolk. He remained there, wearing a thin, green woollen sleep shirt.

"Is Hiccup home, Sir?" the tall boy asked, pressing a book to his chest tighter, eyes running from point to point from above the red-bearded giant's shoulder in a panicked search.

Stoick sighed," Whatever he destroyed I promise I'll-"

"I'm here to talk to him, Sir," Fishlegs interrupted in a bright tone.

"R-really?" the mighty Chieftain stuttered," Yer not her' t' fight him or demand compensation fo' anythin' demolished?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"No, Sir, I really only want to talk with him...as a friend," Fishlegs added quickly, wiggling impatiently.

"Friend," Stoick repeated emotionlessly.

Fishlegs supported his argument by nodding two times. It was enough to persuade Hiccup's father of the pure intentions of the newcomer.

"Oh, tha' is wonderful news!" he beamed, "Now I remember tha' ya used t' play with him when you were both young...before his mother died," he summed up this heart-warming information about his well-known family life with a continued, broad smile.

Spotting Fishleg's increasing awkwardness, he harrumphed, "Hiccup is still sleepin'...came back late yesterday... please come in."

He revealed the inside of the house by stepping aside gesturing the boy in with his egg-wielding hand. Fishlegs did not hesitate in taking the offer.

"I will go wake him up...please feel free t' eat some boiled eggs...I made them myself!" Stoick said proudly, as if immersing an egg in boiling water was the highest skill in cookery.

Stoick closed the heavy front door and then stared down at the plump book-worm as if he was now seeing him for the first time, looking extremely pleased. He put his breakfast egg back on its table plate and retreated up the stairs.

"Hiccup ya hav' a guest!" he hollered as he opened the door to his son's asylum and plunged a head inside the lightless den," Wake up-yer _friend_ is here!" he stressed the world as if he were saying some extremely difficult alien species' name backwards.

Fishlegs now heard a weak, croaky and drowsy voice saying something which would make every normal person's hair stand up.

"Please...no more licking," Hiccup begged dreamily from his bedroom.

How fortunate that this young ship-builder was not limited by the stiff rims of normality!

Stoick pep talked his reluctant, early-rising offspring. Eventually, Stoick emerged from the room and walked downstairs. He put on his bear-pelt cloak and stuffed the remains of his partially-consumed egg into his mouth.

"I need t' leave... and I'm sure ya have some important..._stuff_ t' do! Boy t' boy talk...yes," Stoick finished limply while pulling his long-horned Chieftain's helmet from the hook above the kitchen's fire place. He grumbled a short goodbye and left for his everyday tasks.

Fishlegs waited patiently in silence. There was no indication that Hiccup was taking his father's talk to heart and honouring the world with his appearance.

When almost all hope seemed lost, a scrawny silhouette shuffled out from his dwelling, brushing the wooden floor boards with his boots.

He had his eyelids nearly fully closed as he dragged himself down and stood unsteadily near Fishlegs.

"Morning, Hiccup! I've found something interesting about those dragon runes!" the blonde teen said excitedly lifting up the heavy tome covered in ragged brown leather.

Hiccup sniffed, not appearing to consider the matter important. He then shuffled to main door, opened it, and disappeared outside.

Fishlegs did not know how to react to it - or to the splashing sound he had heard from the outside, followed by a sharp yell.

"Gods! Yes!"

It was clearly Hiccup. Now, swift as the wind, the auburn-haired boy crashed into the kitchen and faced his companion again, cold water dripping from his chin.

"What? You found something? Tha-That's amazing!" the smaller of the boys exclaimed.

"Here," Fishlegs offered the book he held.

Bandaged hands grasped it like a child taking a honey covered nut. The two boys sat themselves at the table.

"How are your hands?" Fishlegs asked as he watched his friend browse through the elderly volume. Yesterday, the impact of Hiccup's fists meeting the hard scales of the dragon left marks on both of his hands; the skin had been cut and torn away from his impetuous strikes.

"They're healing well, thanks. How is your burn? Are you using the...uh, oil I gave you to?" the young inventor questioned.

"Yes, that oil is superb! Smells funny, though!" Fishlegs said with joy.

Hiccup did not show on his face his inner reaction to the fishlike odour properties involved in homeopathic dragon remedies.

He was currently almost at the end of the book when he realized one thing.

"Fish...this is in Norse...," he turned the tome over to see the cover. There, in barely recognisable runes was a stamped sign.

" _History of Berk_...I know this one! Everybody knows it, and, from what I remember, we Berkians don't use other runes than Norse," he said with subtle sarcasm.

Fishlegs smiled mysteriously, not helping in the search.

"It's closer than you think," the hammer-wielding dragon trainee said.

"Yes, it is lying now on the table in front of me, and it_ is_ close enough for you to show me the letters...please?" Hiccup tried to speed along the guessing game.

Fishlegs sighed and rolled his eyes, then flipped the pages with beautifully calligraphed text to the first one and then waited.

"Right... I saw this one already. I see the title...some old armorial bearing and the author's name...nope, no mysterious-looking non-Viking runes here," the blacksmith apprentice said dryly, brushing some wet hair off his forehead.

"I did not see it at first, either. I read through all the books I have about dragons- and that took all of my free time, I tell you! Of course, I had read them before but I was going to reread them anyway for our Dragon Training" Fishlegs continued his epic story of adventures, breaking down the incredibly exciting details that the nerdy sort seems to find thrilling while browsing loads of books.

"Fishlegs! _Please_, can you just show me the thing?" Hiccup said with a loud suggestive tone to get back to the, very important, issue.

"Sorry- when I get excited I get off track, sometimes," said the large youth apologetically.

His large finger moved and pointed at the coat of arms his wet-headed friend had briefly mentioned.

"See?" Fishlegs asked, tapping the page's smooth surface.

Hiccup peered more carefully at the blazon. It was shaped like a shield: an oval bottom with a flat upper part held by two chains attached to a long ribbon-banner spiralling fancifully, twisting at the sides. The banner itself bore the Berk village motto: "Death or Life!"

The shield itself was green with a black image of a knarr in the centre, symbolizing the voyaging way of life of the village's settlers. The emblem was supported by two white creatures appearing to be dragons with giant, opened wings and breathing out forking flames. Everything about them hinted at their draconic nature except one detail.

"Have you ever noticed that those dragons have human- looking eyes? The pupils are round, not slit, and the colour... why red?" Hiccup said, gazing at the illustration. Indeed, the strangely-shaped eyes seemed to gaze back from every angle, one of the tricks the author of the drawing used. The circular iris was a deep scarlet with the small pupil in it and whites filling the remaining space at sides. Those were definitely not dragon eyes.

"Take a look at the banner, how it is shaped," Fishlegs said calmly and took out from his inner pocket the drawings his friend had made for him of the two runes and put them by the drawing," Those lines... don't they look similar?" he said, looking for recognition in Hiccup's eyes.

Recognition indeed glimmered as the feebly-muscled teen saw the pattern in what Fishlegs indicated. However, his enthusiasm was short-lived.

"It's not the same," Hiccup said," Those parts at the end of the banner are off... they do not create a straight line and that straight line above the rune I have showed you is missing as well," he said and let out a breath," I really had my heart in my throat there for a moment...thank you anyway Fish," he said to the bulky dragon scholar in support.

"Oh...yes...I was so happy. I thought I finally found something which would help you... I-I am out of options now," Fishlegs said weakly, noticing the flaw in his theory.

"It's all right, I appreciate it.. You spent many days trying to fulfil my selfish request. Thank you, once more."

Hiccup smiled widely. He _was r_eally thankful for the energy and time his friend put into the task. He was lucky to have friends like that around. His smile helped to lift the wide-shouldered boy's mood a bit.

At the last moment Hiccup asked if he could keep the book, saying he might need to refresh his memory about Berk's heritage. He received the tome without any complaints.

There was someone who could verify Fishleg's theory, and Hiccup knew where to find him.

* * *

Toothless swung his head back up after looking at the artwork.

"C'mon...really, nothing?" Hiccup said irritably, looking at the emblem himself for the fifth time since he had met with the dragon," You 're sure there are no dragon runes there? Maybe you're just sleepy...or hungry, or both. One last look for me? The left end of the banner, please."

The dragon reluctantly scanned the place, and after a brief examination, he chirped a signal meaning _No._

"Just great," Hiccup said, defeated.

He closed the book and lowered his eyes, "What was I thinking...it's like trying to see Thor's reflection in a dried up puddle...useless."

Toothless left ear-antenna twitched as he thought, and he then nudged his rider to open the tome again.

The Night Fury's green eyes narrowed and then, with a lightning motion, the dragon rolled onto his back.

It called for a sarcastic remark, however Hiccup automatically caught the mood of his scaled companion.

Toothless rolled back onto his feet and jotted a claw into the ground. The boy was now breathless with expectation.

IT IS NOTHING

Hiccup had a sudden desire to throw the book at the Fury's face.

ONLY GIBBERISH

"Wait-what?" Hiccup asked, dumbfounded.

The dark-scaled dragon continued.

THE WORDS ARE WRITTEN UPSIDE DOWN. THEY SAY THE CLOSED SPACE NUMBER FIVE.

The bony youth now had his mouth opened.

"All right...I did not see that coming! Are you certain of what it says?" Hiccup questioned, watching the object of their studies, letting Toothless confirm his claim.

After a short moment, Toothless nodded deeply.

"Oh...crap," those words pretty much summed up everything the teen felt.

After he absorbed the first shock, he thought about what to do with his knowledge. He found the choices to be rather limited.

"I'll ask Fishlegs to research more books about our history but I can't tell him much. No, it's too risky now, right after he showed me the coat of arms," he talked to himself, pacing from side to side," The author of this book _is_ one of the Elder's ancestors. But it might also all be just a fluke that the banner folds seemed to appear as dragon words."

Hiccup placed a bandaged finger under his nose, "Toothless, have you heard - or know about- any humans who were able to write in your language?"

The one tail-finned dragon shook his head immediately.

"What do you know about the origins of your language?" Hiccup asked, investigating the matter further.

He knew it could have been possible for humans to write dragon runes. He had even learned some words, himself. If he could have had more time and a more patient Teacher, he felt he would not have had any problems mastering it.

Once again, he received the draconic denial gesture.

Hiccup scratched his head furiously, "Oh well, I'll have time to think about it later... it is not like I am in mortal danger or anything," he smirked.

He still could not get this new information out of his mind. It was already consuming his attention, and he needed to concentrate on more important things.

"Let's go for an evening flight! We can catch some fresh fish, and we'll call it a day?" Hiccup suggested cheerfully.

Toothless gave a dignified snort, however, he quickly buckled his legs to make it easier for his flying partner to jump on.

The boy felt the powerful dragon's curiosity had not been agitated by that revelation. The Fury was happy with life, overall. Hiccup was still alive, in spite of the training. Every time the youth stepped through the wall in the cove was a blessing for them both.

The young blacksmith, however, felt for the first time that he was closer to understanding dragons than ever. Was there anyone here in Berk who knew more about the beasts than he now did? What additional knowledge lay beyond the horizon? The skies were open to him. He knew he could leave Berk at any time, listening to the rustling of wings and watching the scenery change rapidly beneath him, leaving all his problems behind.

It was a good vision, one in which he could feel fulfilled was tempted to make real, Leaving Berk would leave him more energetic and, perhaps, he would find his real happiness and purpose in life.

Although, he still had one option left before he made such a decision: the last fight. It was his last chance to end the training as peacefully as he could. He would purposefully do his best to lose and would not have to stress about killing the dragon in the final exam anymore. It was a hard choice for him to deliberately throw a fight. However, he did not know how to save the Nightmare.

If it ended up being Hiccup who faced the self-flaming dragon, he knew he would not be able to kill it, and this would bring doom not only to him, but to the beast as well.

And, ultimately, to Toothless who would remain downed. And, worse, possibly discovered, tortured and killed by the other villagers. In the name of good faith of course.

The last fight would be quick and clean. Hiccup and Astrid would face the Gronckle, so there would be no more sneaky mind-tricks or cunning manipulations to make him look victorious. Hiccup would make sure he lost the trial.

As if standing still and hiding could win anybody a match.

The fight was quick and clean, and Hiccup did not have to even move a finger.

The Gronckle now lay on the stone floor on its back, tongue lolled out on. And it lay right next to a very stunned boy.

The dragon flew to him, its short wings buzzing, and, after a quick sniff, it dropped on its back as though it were begging for chin scratches.

"Ya did it! Ya will kill th' dragon!" Gobber shouted loudly as he ran unsteadily to the scrawny youth and put him on a broad shoulder to parade around the arena.

Hiccup did not meet Astrid's gaze. He chuckled feebly, his face very pale.

Everything he had planned had gone awry.

"Astrid the Ambitious!" Hiccup said to himself with emphasis as he took what he believed to be his last stroll through the island woods, heading towards the cove, taking bandages off his hands. As he thought the skin already healed, not leaving even a scar thanks to Toothless's treatment.

His heavy basket was filled with all the supplies he guessed he would need for living abroad.

Hiccup had just decided to leave.

He had managed to escape his father and the accompanying crowd so eager to see him killing the final prize. After the bloodless Gronkle fight, the Elder had decided that it was not the talented shield maiden but the inexperienced, tiny warrior who would be put to the ultimate test the day after.

He had needed some time to reach the conclusion that this was actually was the most logical, natural thing to do. He did not fit into the village, so there was nothing surprising about him wanting to leave it.

Finally, he was a bit relieved about this decision, as if some heavy encumbrance had dropped off his heart.

Best of all, he would not be alone on his journey.

He took the longer route to his usual meeting place with the dragon.

Toothless would be more than satisfied that Hiccup was finally following his own desires, and would probably accent such a late decision on something so obvious with a gentle tail slap on the youth's head.

However, Hiccup was not as joyous as he had expected. His friends, family and tribe. He loved all of them, but they chose to hide themselves from the truth, never willing to accept it.

As a mantra he repeated a thought in his head: _It shouldn't be like this._

Still, there was nothing he could have done. What could he do to change the centuries-old, solidified mindset of an entire dragon-slaying community? Only something huge and devastating could change their view, something which would shatter the Vikings' overconfidence once and for all.

Hiccup was not that important. He was only a human. And a very tiny one, at that.

* * *

AN: We all know what will happen next. I hope this knowledge won't discourage you from reading it further and telling me your opinion!

I will also ask you guys if you have any ideas of what is left for me to spoof on fanfiction. I think that I have spoofed everything there was to this amazing site and its writers, not forgetting to make fun of myself as well. Thank you for reading and thank you to Fjord Mustang for proofing.


	28. Changing Winds

AN: Sorry for the long wait.

* * *

The writings were disturbing, to say the least and all the clearing was filled with them. The ground, and even some stones as well.

Astrid did not proceed to explore the place she had just found**, **thanks to the tracking lessons Fleshpetal had given her.

She had confirmed that she did not have any specific talent for following anything by using its footprints or signs left on trees and plants. However, the basics she had learned quickly**, ** and these had been key to manage following the boy and see what he was doing in secret.

She had decided to remain …relatively calm.

But this pretentious act would end with the arrival of Hiccup.

Obvious signs testified of the presence of the now notorious and unrivalled new dragon-training victor.

The tree trunk injured many times by arrow blade marking its surface struck her eyes immediately. She could discern cuts left by a person in training when she saw them.

It had been one of her strongest suspicions, and the one which mostly matched with the reality she had known before facing supernatural dragons she had not the slightest idea could exist.

'Facing' was a very bad term to describe what she had experienced. She had been… _implanted_ an extended sense of awareness. This is how she now thought about it in the best words she could manage from her mind. This avalanching sense of abnormality forcing its way into her life only became one of many she had to adapt to. And most importantly, before even dealing with the secrets of the world, she had had to come to terms with her personal hurricane of tumultuous emotions: burning shame, guilt and frustration tainted with a sense of constant and absolute futility.

None of these listed items were something a warrior could brush off as a simple speck of dust on her shoulder. There were limits of how far someone could be pushed, an extent of the failure a person would be able to accept, a threshold of how many jeering words of failure a warrior could bear.

Nobody had pushed her to train as hard as Astrid herself did**; **no one had mentioned any of her failures as she had received only praise. The only sneers that were dropped on her had always been borne of transparent, undisguised envy and jealousy.

Sitting on the large boulder, she tried to determine what she would do. Would she hit the boy or yell at him? Most likely, it would be both.

Well, here is something unexpected: the calm and detached shield maiden, Astrid Hofferson, stalking a guy.

The very concept an idea too bizarre to be even dreamt by the most courageous -and avant garde- philosopher had just become reality.

Astrid had willingly learned how to track and had followed the trail here to wait and catch her prey. Hiccup would never be able to slip away from this encounter. Astrid was more than certain about this.

Making herself comfortable, she looked up at the lightly clouded sky, the white puffs scattered against its infinite blueness… and waited.

She decided what she would do. Easy: she would confront and force the truth out of the scrawny youth.

And if Hiccup tried to lie again?

Well, then she had more than a few methods at hand to make the outcast, so-called-"winner" aware of her feelings.

Astrid was positioned in a clearly visible spot, not very far away from the entrance. She did not want to hide herself**;** she had no reason to.

Years of rigorous training and experience gave her the assurance Hiccup was not the greatest fighter and a flying axe could change people's minds about escaping quickly.

Waiting was the most boring part of her cunning plan. Her bottom was starting to get sore from the rock beneath her.

It is true she could have occupied herself by further searching the place to give her more insights about her sworn rival.

But in spite of all of her burning curiosity**, **she did not move, her profile as motionless as the statue of that beautiful goddess whose name had been swallowed by time. Her instincts forbade her from moving from this spot**, ** as it made her was safe as long as she did not make her presence known.

She had shrugged that thought off, rationalising it by her need to have a bit of quietness from the heat of battle**, **even if the silence needled her mind with unendurable and bitter reminders of the loss and guilt associated with it.

She usually tended to block such contemplative moments from her life, instead forcing herself to be as busy as possible in improving her skills.

Work and training helped immensely. If a warrior started questioning himself, or his motives and orders, then that meant his time on the battlefield was over.

Soldiers act. They do not think. As long as it made her people survive, then she would be the thoughtless, blind tool of war.

She remembered, now, that it had been Hiccup who had said those words.

She realized she more than ever wanted to meet him. He held all the answers to her problems. He would be the release for her tightly suppressed feelings.

In a way, Hiccup was her salvation.

She looked at the sky in hope it would help her to pass time. The day was beautiful and warm, smelling of moist grass, rotten lignin, salt and life. The first leaves were changing their colours from the monotone green to a more colourful hue.

Shortly, one of the colorful leaves fell from its branch, ending its short life and serving as a treat for one pair of eyes following its air-dance. It passed through Astrid's vision, next to her face.

When she looked up again, _he _was standing there.

Her heart beat faster**, **and she seized the axe-handle stronger. Hiccup moved into his training grounds with a large basket on his back and the most juiceless drained and listless expression she had witnessed on anyone. Even a burnt piece of bread had more energy than what she saw on this young man's face.

Hiccup did not notice the presence of Berk's second best, lost in oblivion as he often was when happily caught up in thoughts of the dark. scaled dragon he wanted to see.

"Toothless!" he bellowed, "Pack up! We're leaving for a little vacation!" he announced loudly, "…Forever!" he added bitterly, pulling the container off his shoulder to the ground and opening it to check again on the contents.

"Oh man...," he sighed as he looked down.

Astrid did not want to be ignored at that moment. A small rock next to her hand came in handy to get her the attention she wanted to have for making a proper entrance.

Seemingly unperturbed on the outside, she scraped the axe blade with the rock as if she wanted to sharpen it.

The sound was quiet, yet too distinct to be ignored. And**, **certainly**, **not by a person who had been sharpening blades most of his life.

Hiccup looked up, confused at first and then seeing who caused the grinding**, **he jumped and shouted in fright, "What the-!" before falling backwards.

He moved backwards with a few, chaotic and crablike motions, and then, with adrenaline-boosted speed, he managed to stand up to properly face his unexpected guest.

"Astrid! W-what are you doing here?" he stammered, nervously brushing off imaginary dirt from his tunic and from the weird X-shaped leather straps that crossed his chest.

"I could ask you the same thing," the impatient female warrior hissed, jumping off the boulder lightly.

The act Hiccup tried to put was as unskilful as his sword fighting.

"M-Me? I-I am...um," Hiccup clearly had a hard time finding any excuse to defend himself, looking nervously around.

Her hunch had just been confirmed.

"Let's make one thing straight," Astrid said, stepping closer and tossing her axe from one hand to the other, watching in dark satisfaction as the boy squinted in fear, following the blade's movement.

"Nobody gets as good as you...especially_ you_," she said with emphasis, narrowing her eyes threateningly as Hiccup tried to smile nervously while taking a quick step back.

"Spit it out! How did you do it?" she asked, in a demanding tone.

But she chiefly had other questions running through in her mind.

_Why you are always better than me?_

_Why can't I reach your level no matter what I do? _

_Why you? Why not me!_

Hiccup kept silent, defensively raising his hand in front of his face. To her furious agitation, he was not entirely focused on her.

He was scanning the space behind her, at least during those intervals when he was not cracking her a sheepish, hypocritical grin.

"Are you _training_ with someone? And... what's this?" Astrid queried, voicing the only idea she came up with and jerking her head towards the strange vest Hiccup wore.

She felt that if Hiccup did not reveal his secrets from his own initiative, then there was no force which would cause him to have a change of heart.

It suddenly came to her how stubborn he was**,** and she now felt powerless. Suddenly, her whole stalking and preying now looked to her like a puerile game.

"Oh-no! I...I am," the village troublemaker stuttered a few monosyllables more.

Suddenly a small crack of wood resounded and two heads snapped towards the source of the noise.

Astrid immediately paced combatively towards the noise, axe at the ready, scanning the tall bulrushes. She tried to ignore Hiccup who had just rushed in front of her to block her view with his freckled face, speaking hastily.

"You-you got me! All this time I was here making... ah… outfits!" he uttered with desperate delight, his thin body swaying synchronically with Astrid's,resulting in obstructing her vision.

The girl walked around him and looked ahead, listening intently.

Hiccup again placed himself as a living obstacle by her face, "Come on! It's time for everybody to know! Drag me to the village... let them laugh their guts out!" he said, his voice dyed with panic. That panic caused him to make one, unforgivable**,** mistake.

He touched Astrid.

To make her job even easier, he had positioned his palm on her shoulder.

This was the very invitation she had sought. With a practiced movement**,** she squeezed the youth's wrist and gave it a twist.

Hiccup yelped in pain and dropped forward to the ground, forced by the pain flaring in his hand.

"Why would you do that?" Hiccup gasped, holding his hurt limb's end, aiming his pledges to whatever sane part of his torturer still might exist.

Astrid was more than eager to elaborate on her motives and enlighten the youngster.

With practiced ease, she lightly kicked the side of the defenceless boy to make him roll on his back. "That's for the lies!" she revealed the first, and foremost important part of her punishing plan.

She then dropped the axe handle onto the boy's stomach.

Hiccup gasped and moaned quietly.

"And _that's_ for everything else!" she disclosed the last part of her design with unflawed**,** womanly logic.

The "everything else" pack contained the following items: a) humiliating her by continuously winning, b) saying 'sorry' far too many times, c) not leaving her head … d) eating like a ravenous Gronkle and so on and so forth. (

Their charming bonding moment was suddenly disturbed by a deep growl from the other side of the pond.

Astrid instantaneously turned away from the scrawny youth and grabbed her axe with both hands.

There was only one type of animal which could snarl like that.

"Oh great…" the exposed self-proclaimed teenage fashion designer said quietly, sounding overall …tired? As if he had …_expected_ to hear a draconic growl?

"Hiccup, get up and run!" Astrid said desperately. She would never forgive herself if somebody died because she had not been able to control her temper and hurt him so he could not escape.

How stupid and irresponsible she had acted! She had never wanted to really hurt Hiccup. Except for one shameful incident, in the trainings she had always tried to protect him.

…And when had she started to care about Hiccup's personal welfare anyway?

She was not given more time for further pondering, as something dark jumped out from behind a cluster of long-stemmed reeds. It was a dragon. One she had never seen before: all sleek and black as the darkest night**, **and its green, enormous eyes were directed straight at her.

The dragon was going for the kill and did not waste any time. Four muscular and dangerously clawed legs bent down and the creature ran- no- _leaped_ the distance in four blurry bounds from left to right, successfully confusing Astrid as to which side it would attack from.

She barely was able to raise her axe to strike the devil.

She was dead. She knew it. That vicious dragon was too fast, moving with an impossible faster than she could counter.

At the final jump**,** a terrifying sight of a clawed paw plummeting towards her head opened before her.

Then somebody hugged her and pushed her back with a strength that made them both fly back, out of reach of the perilous threat. The only means of her defence, her axe, fell from her hands.

Astrid did not see the paw strike the ground**, **impacting it with the weight of the entire dragon's body, but she heard how the earth cracked. She also saw the small depression the blow had created. She even felt the waves of the impact vibrate through her bones as she lay with Hiccup above her, holding her in a protective embrace.

Then, as swiftly as the dragon had attacked, Hiccup stood up to face the dragon and raised his both hands to shield the girl behind him.

Astrid did not want anyone to throw out his life for her. She was ready to fight to death, to be the one to pay the ultimate price for her foolishness and her reckless behaviour.

At least, she had been. Until the dragon, instead of tearing the scrawny boy into shreds, put its head safely behind Hiccup's arm and resumed staring at her with deadly eyes.

Then, she also noticed that it carried a horse-like riding harness on its scaled body.

"Easy**,** boy!" the youth soothed, turning to Astrid, pushing the dragon's head away with his back, "It's not so bad as it looks!" Hiccup said matter-of-factly**,** seemingly not shocked about having a murderous dragon right behind him.

Astrid was speechless; she now held the final piece of the puzzle, the answer she was missing.

It was not for a sane mind to predict such things.

"This is what I wanted to avoid!" Hiccup said, sounding upset and then, with a gasp, he pushed the dragon's muzzle away with his hand. He turned to her, annoyed, "You scared him!".

That beast looked anything but afraid.

It was too much for her to absorb at once.

"Who...is _him_?" she queried, although there were not many choices of who - or what- the insane boy was referring to.

Hiccup took a step away from the dragon, who did not proceed attempts to kill her. Rather, it appeared satisfied just with looking menacing.

"Um...here," Hiccup said and the female warrior watched in shock with pupils as large as discs as the blacksmith apprentice walked to a spot right by the dragon and gestured towards Astrid.

"Astrid...Toothless," he emoted to the creature," Toothless...Astrid," he repeated the movements the opposite way.

She could not believe the absurd situation. He had just cordially introduced her to a …dragon, hadn't he?

Toothless growled, revealing a wall of pointy, sharp fangs**, **thus demonstrating to Astrid how inaccurate the dragon's given name was.

All of this escaped the boundaries of her comprehension**, **and she lacked the vocabulary to shout invectives towards the demented youth. Swearing would have to wait.

Shaking her head in denial,she sprinted away as fast as her legs could carry her, expecting the beast's talons to rip her back open at any moment.

She left the cove unharmed**,** and she only had one thought in her mind.

_Go back to the village and warn everybody about that traitorous and backstabbing so-called dragon warrior they admired so much! He had been fooling them the whole time, had been leading the enemy right to their doorstep? _

And to think that she actually...actually- …ah!

She groaned and sped up the steep hill. She couldn't think about this right now. She would have time for sentiments later.

* * *

"We need to follow her, you know that?" Hiccup shouted at Toothless, who did nothing to comply with this high-volume request.

Lazing in the sun was foremost on his mind. However, Toothless found it slightly difficult to fulfil this enjoyable goal when a small life form was holding down his tail with its small frame. Quite hard, as a matter of fact.

"If she reaches the village, she'll be back with a bunch of warriors**,** and they will show you how 'charming' Vikings are with dragons and traitors!" Hiccup yelled powerfully**,** his voice revealing he was on the verge of emotional breakdown.

Toothless could ignore the ear-striking voice however, could not refuse Hiccup's eyes.

As it had happened the first time he saw them and until they had grown too familiar to him, he could read these eyes better than he had ever been able to read anyone's eyes before.

Hiccup would _not_ change his mind. But Toothless had many questions to ask first and, in perfect dragon logic,he would start with the first and most important one.

"I _can't_ leave her, bud," the boy spoke before the Night Fury could make his request known, "Not when she is so close to the truth... I believe she can be changed. I believe she is a good person inside, Tooth. I do not want to let her go back to the village and be consumed by the hate everyone there has for dragons, but I cannot do it alone. Help me... please," he pleaded with a sincerity that sliced through the dragon's heart.

So**,** _this_ was the female Scalgertar was attracted to, which, according to human standards, also meant that he cared about her welfare.

_Is this the 'love' he spoke about?_ Toothless thought and sighed, closing his eyes.

He really _had_ gotten so soft!

He turned and motioned Hiccup to his back with a flick of his head. With a joyful laugh, Hiccup eagerly jumped on and clipped himself secure.

The Fury lifted off vertically and shot towards the human dwellings.

He might have gotten soft… however, Toothless did intend for that female to be punished for beating and hurting his boy - both in the recent past and for what the dragon had just seen now. No amount of sweet words or of human moralisation would change that!

* * *

Astrid had never run so fast in her life. With this unmatched speed she would quickly reach help.

She felt light, almost as if she were flying above the ground.

Illusion never is nearly as valuable as the real experience…

Another obstacle. The fallen tree did not present any problem. She jumped above it, but never touched the ground on the other side.

That feeling of a breeze whooshing across her face could have been pleasant if she had not been too busy screaming.

Being kidnapped by a dragon was terrifying and did not leave much room for anything else but watching in terror as the trees beneath her grew smaller and smaller.

The same, deadly paw equipped with four claws which were supposed to kill her, now held her by the arm. But, for lack of an opposable thumb the strong grip was not securely locked. She frantically grabbed the armoured leg with her hands, her fingers sliding over the smooth scales.

The forest moved beneath her as she continuously screamed her lungs out. Sheer terror had dissipated her logic.

Her first flight ended as quickly as it had started.

The so-called "Toothless" abruptly released his hold and**,** with negligent carelessness, Astrid was dumped on the branch directly beneath her.

As her chest collided with the lifesaving branch and her hands grasped at it, she sensed her screams fading into a rather funny-sounding squeal.

She was helplessly dangling near the tall pine tree top**,** looking down at the abyss stretching beneath her.

The wood creaked as the monstrous beast landed at the tree-top**, **flapping wings to slow down its momentum. The whole tree leaned towards the dark, narrow chasm.

"Astrid!" she heard Hiccup's frightened voice.

She gasped, correcting her grip and then gasped again, in astonishment this time.

He really _was riding the cursed beast_! Leaning over the broad shoulder of the animal, he held out his hand to her.

"Hiccup! Let me down from here!" she shouted desperately. Yelling, however, did not help her stabilise her position, "…Now!" she added as strongly as she could. However, the word carried a not so subtle hint of helplessness and terror in it.

"Can you please just listen to me?" the dragon-riding teen asked with a volume equalling Astrid's.

"I am not listening to _anything _you have to say!" she bellowed back. The boy could seed his venomous lies as long as he wanted. Now, with his shocking and disgusting secret revealed, no words of his would be trusted anymore and**, **Thor help her, she _would_ kill him if he ever tried to soothe her with his lies again**!**

The twig she held on squeaked dangerously. Killing the traitor would have to wait until she regained her balance. And safer grounds.

"Fine!" Hiccup exclaimed and closed his eyes, pulling his hand back again, though now it was curled into a fist.

He took a deep breath as if taking in and accepting the bitterness of Astrid's behaviour.

He then opened his eyes again and**,** with as determined a gleam in them as she had ever seen, he spoke to her again, stretching out his hand to her again, as inviting as before, "Then let me show you," he said softly, never leaving her gaze.

Astrid had to pull away from that powerful stare. She quickly assessed her situation.

She was hanging on a tall tree which had no way down except falling to her death. The only means of ever reaching the ground was trusting an insane teen with a deadly dragon between his legs.

That sounded wrong the very second she thought of it.

Using the fleeting silence, she pulled legs up and over and then stood on top of the branch, balancing herself on it.

Licking her lips, she took a careful step closer when a quiet growl stopped her.

She eyed the dragon. Was this creature outstaring her? She saw the slit, dark pupil follow her every move.

She could sense unwavering hostility in the beast's eyes.

Hesitantly**,** she took another step and found herself right by the dragon's side, which was wrapped in a strange contraption, all of which appeared to be part of the harness.

She ignored the youth's outstretched smallish hand and closed her hand against the side of the dragon. She recoiled in alert as the black monster growled again with threatening power. It was a warning message to her,and she received it loud and clear.

Careful to hold the saddle and not to touch the dragon's skin, she climbed and took a seat right behind the boy, making certain not to even brush her clothes against the traitor and it was hard to do in this horribly limited sitting space.

"Now**,** get me down!" she ordered. Hiccup looked back with a gleeful smile which made the ferocious female warrior want to smack him squarely on his hairless jaw.

"All right! Toothless...let's fly down ...gently!" the youth added to the dragon as if that beast could understand, patting its neck.

In answer, two enormous velvet wings unfolded and Astrid noticed how the beast slowly leaned forward.

Perhaps she would have the gentle landing Hiccup had suggested after all.

"See? Nothing to be afr-," he began, but never finished for**, **at the same moment, Toothless soared forward. "He" used the bent over tree as a trampoline and**,** with a brutal vertical start, forcefully flapped his wings.

Astrid had to scream again. Her legs were not gripping anything**,** and she felt herself lean backwards, almost falling. Forgetting all her biases towards the hateful betrayer, she forced herself forward and grabbed the teen's thin frame, squeezing it tightly.

"Toothless! Bad dragon! He-he is not usually like this!" Hiccup shouted back as the dragon levelled out his maniacal flight.

Trembling with a fear too great for words, Astrid did not scream.

She watched over Hiccup's shoulder, who she realized was in as much control or, more likely, as little control of the beast as she was, at the briny surface rushing up to meet them.

"Oh no," Hiccup commented right after the wings closed and pressed tightly to the dragon's sides.

Lack of a carrying force in the air usually resulted in another force, namely gravity, taking a more visible role.

They fell as a rock accelerating to such a speed the air whistled in their ears. Right before slamming into the surface of the sea, Toothless adjusted slightly to impact it with his back first.

The dragon immediately flew up from the water, but only to jump and dive in quickly again.

Then, soaking wet, they shot upwards with neck-breaking speed.

"Toothless stop it! We need her to like us!" Hiccup shouted angrily at the beast which emitted a diffident sound similar to a snort. He seemed not interested in listening and instead moved on to the next part of his forceful demonstration of aerial acrobatics.

"And now he's spinning," the chieftain's son stated in a pretence at sarcasm**,** folding his hand on his chest and succumbing to the unforgiving devil's wishes as they revolved downwards with ridiculous speed, "Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile," he added in a nonchalant monotone.

This was quite enough for Astrid! She had not been trained to deal with that kind of situation where she was kidnapped, and then invited (as if she had any other choice) onto the back of a mad dragon who then did insane manoeuvres designed to make her die from fright.

And here she had once thought she could overcome anything**!**

"All right! I'm sorry!... I'm sorry!" she yelled, eyes closed tight and pressing herself to Hiccup, soaking wet and utterly confused.

She had rarely apologised to anyone and,certainly**,** never to the awkward boy or to a dragon.

Yet, right after her desperate words, the vomit-inducing rolling stopped abruptly. Astrid's insides no longer repositioned themselves violently**;** the wind no longer broke across her face.

Instead, soft quietness came. Something flapped like a flag on a weak breeze. She opened her eyes, blinking**,** as she saw only skies directly above her head.

Her eyes grew wider as she saw how beautiful it all looked**!** Clouds**:** pink, orange and white, fluffy wonders rendered different shapes and shades in the setting rays of the distant half-disc of the sun.

Mouth opened in amazement, Astrid saw a wall of pinkish clouds pass above her.

Forgetting everything, she wanted to touch it, filled with childish curiosity.

She wanted to try something new, to explore**!** The palisade of colourful mist neared as if she were not flying on a dragon but**,** rather**,** flying by herself.

She outstretched her hand and touched the cloud. It was cold and it moistened her palm with water, tickling her finger. It was a sensation she could not describe, touching an evanescent moment. She now reached up to touch the clouds with her second hand, releasing her grasp, not holding onto anything anymore except her legs gripping the dragon's shoulders, lost in that joyful moment where she was trying to grab a particularly elusive piece of vapour.

Grinning widely, she felt herself passing through it, getting lost for a moment.

Then an even more surreal view spread out before her.

These were not views intended for mortals. It was not a wall, but a whole carpet of chromatic clouds filling the space until the end of the horizon. They stretched out as flat as if she were sailing above a northern lights.

Involuntarily, she gasped, even afraid to blink**,** lest any image fled her sight.

So, instead, she soared, not saying a word and not being asked to say one.

_This_ was what Hiccup wanted to show her, a world above her own, that lower, everyday world she grew to accept and never question.

When was it that s had he lost her wonder about the world?

The larger and smaller clouds passed by her like islands waiting to be explored.

She was on a dragon, one of humans' sworn enemies, a beast she had been taught to slaughter and hate.

But here, hovering between ground and eternity**,** it no longer mattered.

She might have been under the spell of "Toothless**,**" and she wanted to stay happy and joyous as long as she could.

She had never smiled so much before**!** At least, not since she had imposed herself on her mission, to make her and her family recognised and to lift their social status.

She had never been selfish, had always tried to be noble, incarnating the epitome of the ideals that Berk Vikings worshipped.

But, she now realized, nobody had ever asked her to try so hard, to reject what little of her childhood remained**,** as she had abandoned it to become a shield maiden.

All of Hiccup's talks with them, his words about dragons, his behaviour towards them and against violence in general.

He truly saw farther than any of the warriors in the village**,** and what she could only feel, now, was a wavering but growing respect for the scrawny boy.

He had shown her an escape from the circle of destruction and hate**!**

A different path where she had thought there was none.

He had allowed her to see everything from a different perspective. Literally**, **as well as figuratively.

She did not need to try so hard, she did not need to be always perfect, she did not have to fulfil the self imposed wish to live the life her mother no longer could live.

She had never lived for herself. Never had she merely followed her selfish and childish desires. She only realized, at this moment, that her parents' faces had never once expressed pride as she came back from training bruised and cut.

And her mother had never praised her for almost dying in the ring.

Instead they had hugged her, cleaned her wounds, and they were happiest when chatting with her about day to day things during meal times. She had also enjoyed those moments. And she realizing now, they had been letting her know they loved her for just as she was. That was what made them most happy.

And yet, she had never asked her parents, not even once, about what they wanted; she had always assumed it and she lived by her assumptions that became her own wishes.

It was both exhilarating and humiliating for her to realise all of this so late.

Toothless lowered his altitude and passed through the clouds again**,** and the beautiful ocean showed beneath them, limitless and mysterious.

Astrid now studied the back of the tenacious boy in front of her. She had always seen weakness in him, with that body so small and fragile, someone who always needed shielding and protecting. In the end, he had shown he could accomplish more daring acts than any of her people had accomplished. He had befriended and flown on a dragon!

She realized she now wanted to thank him, from the bottom of her awakened heart, for this first bit of real happiness she had felt in such a long time, together with the easier acceptance of her feelings for Hiccup.

Yes, she realized now her fascinated feelings for him had been leading up to something unexpected. They had been pointing her towards getting to know more about Hiccup. And now that she had, she was discovering a new sensation... it might even, possibly, be called "love".

Her heart beat stronger and she automatically put a subtle smile.

Taking a small breath and mustering her courage, with a blush she did not want to be spotted, she put her hands around the young man's small, but hard chest and pressed herself as tightly as she could to Hiccup, resting her forehead on his shoulder, keeping her face hidden. Hiccup started, perhaps from surprise or from the cold they both felt through their dampened clothes.

They continued to soar in silence, letting the powerful wings tell the words they wanted to say. Astrid had her eyes closed as she remained in her position.

She did not see anything then. However, the world continued to look astounding for her.

* * *

When he felt the weight on his back move slightly, Toothless discreetly looked back and smirked immediately. His clanmate had apparently made some progress with the female he desired as she now held him in that gesture the humans called a hug.

He felt Hiccup would not appreciate his invaluable input in "softening" Astrid's demeanour. His tail-fin controller had never properly explained the word "like" to his armoured partner,and Toothless had had to take the initiative not only in punishing the female, but also in making her realise her mistake in her angry behavior towards Skelgarter.

The Fury knew a lot about the power of fear and how amazingly quickly it was able to influence your view on the world.

Their aimless journey continued, and Toothless made it a point to show the humans a view of everything which he had heard from Hiccup that was beautiful or "awesome".

So far it worked well on this Astrid-female as well. Apparently, humans thought clouds were most interesting**, ** although the dragon could not find a more annoying and boring thing than a piece of cloud in the sky. It obscured your vision and made your scales wet after crossing through it.

He flew until it became too dark for human's eyes to see. Soon**,** the moon took over the lighting duty after the sun. Beating his wings in a calm rhythm, Toothless soared above the mist again to make the sparkling sky amply visible.

He noticed light below on the island**,** thanks to his excellent sight.

Perfect. This view would certainly please his young passengers. Descending gently**,** he let them observe their own home island at night**,** as well as their nestings. As if teasing, Toothless passed by one of the guard towers; fire was glowing brightly through the opening in the pillar. The dragon flew straight above the sleeping houses, set along streets illuminated with rows of torches.

He glided away back to the ocean, losing track of time and space from the monotonous task.

"All right I admit it. It's amazing" he heard the voice of Astrid, bright and cheery, and her hand touched the side of his neck. "He is amazing," the transformed girl spoke, rubbing Toothless's neck.

The dragon regarded this touching action with a cold stare. He still had not forgotten what she had done to Hiccup.

"What are you going to do**, **then?" she asked, her tone muting to a whisper, "Tomorrow you have to... you have to kill… a dragon," she said hoarsely, her words**,** nevertheless**,** reaching the dragon's sensitive ears.

However, Toothless never heard them.

He _had_ to return. He _had_ to bring the kill. He had food on his back**,** so he was Safe. Fear ruled him and he could not let the fear grow. He _had_ to obey.

The primal and ancient urge poured into the Fury's mind, everlasting and eternal.

He could not even curse his stupidity and the idiocy of his projected flight taking him too close to the Nest. He had intended to show a beautiful grotto, filled with gigantic, white crystals placed on the small island in the middle of the ocean, but now, he had come too close to the danger zone.

His will was gone. The world confined itself into one dark point and then exploded with shattering fear.

"What's wrong**, **bud?" he heard in a strange language he understood.

Something touched the trembling side of his neck. He jerked his head violently and growled. It was irrelevant.

He _had_ to fly towards the pulling force. He had recently had a short pause in his life, where he had forgotten about the fear and what power it had.

The break was now over.

Toothless banked abruptly to the right, diving into the mist that smelled of sulphur and death. Toothless flapped his wings in panic, swaying uncontrollably.

His brain pressed, he felt a presence all around him as if glistening eyes started popping out in the middle of a very dark forest.

A dark shape passed by him, almost grazing his wing with sharp claws. New silhouettes emerged from the grey whirls in great numbers, all of them dragons**, **and all of them carrying dead animals in fangs or claws.

"They're bringing in the kill," the voice which was distantly familiar to the fearful dragon said from his back.

"Then what does that makes us?" another one said in a higher, different tone.

The game-heavy dragons shrieked piercingly, noticing the shadow of an unknown member. That dragon's words were incoherent**,** and Toothless could not concentrate on any of them.

When he was about to give himself completely up to despair, he recalled the past situation, the one where he was watching down onto the small human, appearing frail and weak, seeking power in the memory.

* * *

Nervous and a bit fearful, he heaved in a pattern he was instructed to do by the Nadder. But he found himself drawn to one detail: a tiny hand touching his forehead.

His own breathing suddenly calmed him,and waves of gentle power soothed him.

"What are you missing?" the human asked in a monotone voice, his head down, concealing his eyes, "Is there anything you want? Anything this boy could share with you?"

Toothless sought his mind for an answer. The oddness of the question did not strike his reasoning self.

He knew what he wanted. The one quality his dearest clanmate had so much it made him ashamed of himself whenever he saw that bright scrawny face smile to him.

That little human, ultimately, was stronger and faster, bigger and so much more feared.

It was what had captivated him when they had started their unusual relation.

Friendship was still a peculiar word to him as he still did not entirely grasp the essence of the word and how it corresponded with human feelings.

"I want your courage, my bright flame," Toothless thought**,** materialising his desire into words for the first time.

And so, just what the dragon wished for, he then received.

The pressure on his mind strengthened**, **then, and he was ready to roar from the incoming pain.

There was no pain or suffering. Something poured into him, lightening his thought, yet something was taken from him at the same time. Or rather, not taken away, but shared.

_What is it that you wish for? What could I possibly give you? _Toothless thought later looking down at the sleeping boy.

The vision ended and he felt that courage grow inside him. It was the power he needed and the one he was shared with.

* * *

Blackness faded away from his terrified mind**, **and he could fight back into consciousness.

It _wa_s possible**!** He could do it: fight and vanquish the power enslaving him**!** The force coercing him into fleeing, became, though fearsome at first, only a primitive and incoherent waiver. No longer was it the same extraordinary strength able to shatter anything opposing it; it was just something ugly. And desperate.

Toothless shook his head, finally releasing the spell away out of his brains and found himself entering the side of the gigantic volcano.

_The Stronghold of the Old Sea._ This was the real name of this place.

He zigzagged through the known corridor and dove to the main chamber now revealed to him and his passengers.

He quickly scanned the surroundings. Nothing had appeared to change during his long absence.

It was still the same stench of decomposing matters covered by the suffocating odour of the opened earth.

The only differences were the shaking and terrified dragons packed in the holes and shelves around the gigantic hole from which an orange fog whirled as a thick,hellish soup.

Toothless made a rapid turn to the right and glided in a strong curve behind one of the large, irregularly shaped pillars. He fluidly landed on the shelf behind it, and he took a look from his shelter at the glowing mist beneath.

Hiccup and Astrid kept wisely silent and restricted themselves to pressing against the Fury's dark, leathery back and appearing as small as possible.

The flock was agitated. Dragons of various shapes and sizes moved from one side of the gigantic chamber to another, chirping, growling and hissing.

Almost none of the sounds resembled words. Sentience and language had faded, yielding to terrified,raw animality.

The main stream of flying bodies flew above the hall, each dragon throwing its load of hunted food into the hole.

"Good to know our food isn't being wasted, only chucked into a gigantic hole," Hiccup commented quietly with the customary cover-up sarcasm he used when he was nervous or afraid.

The Fury's pupils slit and his eyes narrowed as a lonely Gronkle zigzagged in the air, not carrying any visible food.

Toothless could see somebody marked for dead before it happened.

That was one of the skills he had developed,as he had seen imminent death so many times that it became predictable.

That flying dragon, intoxicated with Mountain Grass, was doomed.

The Gronkle buzzed, hovering statically and regurgitated a small part of fish from his long-fanged maw. The would-be meal disappeared in the hellish fog.

A single heartbeat moment passed as a loud growl resonated, deep and low**, **as if the ground itself had produced this sound.

Toothless did not join the gasps of fear and the obnoxious shrieking of the dragons as a gigantic head came forth from its vaporous concealment,and a pair of ancient jaws snapped shut on the unfortunate Gronkle.

The effect was immediate.

A turmoil of bodies and wings fought to escape, some even flying into one another or clawing at the walls, already full of the claw-marks left by the previous escapees.

A gigantic heademerged yet further, chomping on half of a Zippleback who had been knocked down by another rushing dragon and was too slow to fly higher.

Above a disgusting massive and long muzzle rested three eyes on each side of a head that was at least ten times the size of a typical dragon's. Each of its countless spiked fangs were taller than an adult man.

Teeth came together, and blood fountained from the part of the Zippleback crammed into the beast's throat. Even from so far away Hiccup heard the macabre breaking noise of crushed ribs and spine. Toothless did not even skin a breath as the sight, but his rider gasped painfully as he was the one who was squashed in half.

The two-headed body was devoured in two jaw movements.

This strange, giant monstrosity was grey, with reddish knobs or warts on its skin all over its body. The back of the thick and heavy skull carried a bone comb.

Toothless absorbed every detail of his ultimate enemy.

He now caught the colour of the pupils changing from black to white and the green and light-yellow spots covering the skin, turning into the eyes he only knew too well from the nemesis of his nightmares.

_"IT."_

And IT was no longer invulnerable.

IT actually had scars on its muzzle. IT was almost blind. IT had a skin infection and IT might even have been severely injured in its recent past. All of these statements stunned the shadow-blending dragon.

IT, actually, could get sick! But IT was supposed to be invulnerable!

The wary Fury felt an urge to kill raise**, **and his blood boiled with murderous frenzy.

His target _was _getting weaker, ITS controlling abilities apparently did not work as powerfully as before. Whatever had happened to the monster to make IT this way was the least of Toothless's concerns.

Still... He might take his chances and hunt his prey down. Why not try to…

"W-we should get out of here, bud," Hiccup interrupted from between his shoulders.

Toothless's mind quickly returned to normal, but the urge to slaughter remained unaffected.

Nothing or nobody could have calmed him down, only the Fury himself could.

As if IT had felt the murderous aura, ITS large nostrils sniffed the air, catching the trail of the hidden dragon.

Toothless reacted before the enormous snout plunged for the stone pillar. The enormous fangs closed scarcely beneath him as Toothless took off vertically**, **flapping his wings powerfully, releasing the accumulated energy and anger.

He dodged every escaping dragon in his path except for one panicked Nadder, who did not pay attention and almost collided with the Fury.

Toothless turned, the horned dragon's talons barely missing. However, the Fury answered with a shot of his electric fire squarely into the creature's belly, blasting the absent-minded beast against the steep wall.

The Nadder's body dropped from the stones and crashed onto the rockshelf right beneath. It lay still, appearing unconscious or dead.

Nobody commented on that violent occurrence. The silhouettes of dragons discharged from the volcano side as the water from the leaking barrel.

The sky echoed with draconic shrieks and cries as Toothless made his way through the dragon horde, flying agilely between ITS slaves.

Toothless and his humans soon cleared out from the whirling cloud and farther away from the danger.

Toothless half-expected the monstrous dragon devourer to pull him back using ITS power.

A liquid fire of rage circulating in his veins propelled his murderous thoughts.

None of the other Nest's dwellers managed to follow them out of the volcano, and the trio headed away from the mist and into the clear, night sky. The only visible flying creature was the solitary silhouette of a Night Fury flying away into the enormous, silvery disc of the moon.

* * *

Astrid was the first one to break the silence, finally feeling it was all right to use her voice.

"What was _that_?" she asked Hiccup in a scared tone, her tight hug now switching to allow Hiccup to be able breathe more comfortably again.

The blacksmith apprentice knew that she was asking the wrong creature there. However, he did not plan to put Astrid into bigger shock by revealing anything about the intelligence of the fiery kind.

"I ...don't know," he answered truthfully, scratching the Fury's head in consolation. As he expected, there was no reaction from his friend.

Even if Toothless did not do anything to let his partner know that he did not want any contact, Hiccup recoiled his hand immediately.

The swift dragon wanted to remain alone as much possible, given his forced condition with two humans on his back.

"The dragons feed that... thing. Why would they do that?" Astrid asked another question.

"Because, if they didn't, they would be eaten themselves," Hiccup answered quickly.

"So**,** why don't they just leave? Why would they support something that kills them?" the blonde girl said right after the dragon's rider first clarification.

The auburn haired youth wanted to reply something in the vein of why would the Vikings not leave as well, and why would they support an ideology which was wrong to the core**?**

"I don't know," he chose to say instead.

Astrid did not leave the topic, as she tried to validate all of her ideas about the apparent dragon slavery to the gigantic beast.

Hiccup**,** in the beginning**,** answered shortly, almost shunning her, keeping an eye on his silent companion. Being connected to Toothless gave him a very clear sensation of how serious the matter was.

However, after some time, he joined the discussion, giving up to the part of him that loved to discuss new possibilities and ideas.

Soon, he felt the muscles of the Fury work less tensely as they approached their home island.

"It must be some sort of a beehive. The big one must be their queen! It all fits!" Astrid spoke loudly over the rapid beats of the Fury's wings as they were brought down into the cove.

Toothless touched the ground and stopped with a few nimble steps.

The excited girl jumped off the dragon's back and Hiccup quickly followed.

The scaled avenger used that moment of freedom to go and satisfy his thirst, which also wound up giving the teens a bit of privacy.

The boy did not appear as energetic as Astrid was with the information they had acquired and the possible solutions it could bring to their people.

She skipped a breath, noticing the green eyes locked as always to the ground with a pained expression.

That's right. Hiccup had never answered her earlier question.

"What are you going to do now? About... tomorrow?" She said hesitantly.

She had to know what was going inside that mysterious boy's mind.

She wanted to know more about the young dragon tamer and never let herself be caught off guard and deliberately make herself ignorant and near-sighted.

Hiccup took a look back at the water-sipping dragon.

"I will show them the truth... I will...I must," he spoke the last part quietly as if rather to himself. Astrid's reaction was as spry as her axe strikes.

"What? You want to risk everything -your own life… again for what? For your pet dragon?" She felt her voice rise up into a near well by the end of that phrase.

She did not want to see him get hurt and fight another insane battle.

This time she would not be in the arena to shield him from the deadly flames.

Hiccup only needed one word to persuade and break Astrid's resolve and brush away every worry from her heart.

He turned to her, his emerald eyes wide and bright, unbreakable and full of faith.

"Yes." he stated in a flat tone and unnerved posture, facing her directly.

Astrid, speechless, knew she could not persuade such strength.

Hiccup had made his decision in truth with himself,and she was powerless to stop him.

However, she could support him. And**,** by Odin**,** she would do it**!**

"A-all right. Then... what do we do now?" she spoke much gentler, jerking a wisp of hair from her eye.

Hiccup's eyes lost their hardness and he lowered his gaze.

"I don't know... I will think of something," he said lightly and tiredly.

It was so apparent how much this decision cost him mentally that Astrid wanted to embrace that thin, but able**, **body and press her lips to his to make him forget, even for a moment about his problems.

Sadly for Hiccup, she was too proud to do that,and she knew that after treating the lonely boy with so little respect and that for being one of his problems, she would not be wise in trying to close the gap between them too fast.

She bit her lip and took a step forward, unable to take the heavy atmosphere any longer and hit Hiccup's arm.

He yelped, more from surprise than from pain.

"That's for kidnaping me!" she announced and the auburn-haired teen did not voice any protest for this, finally**, **very gentle punishment for taking away somebody's freedom.

After a split second of silence Astrid's arm shot out again and, grabbing Hiccup by his tunic lapels, she pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his cheek, "And that's for... everything else," she said with a faint blush, unmatched for the redness raising on the boy's cheeks.

She turned and ran without turning back, grabbing her axe before leaving.

She would close the gap between them. May the sky fall on her head if that was not a good start.

* * *

Hiccup held a hand on his cheek, staring blankly into space, still feeling the softness of the lips on his skin. His amorous recollection was disrupted by a nearby presence.

Toothless looked at the inlet exit and then at the boy with that look of his which said many words.

"W-what are you looking at," Hiccup spurted out.

The Fury grunted throatily and blinked innocently making up his act of cute, round pupils taking most of the eye space.

The scrawny inventor smirked and relished the affectionate contact, his heart beating hard and happiness heating his body. He would have never imagined that somebody as Astrid, so beautiful and out of his weakly-muscled reach would be interested in him.

It gave him an enormous burst of manly confidence and another reason to fight for what he believed in.

He looked to the side just where Toothless stood.

The dragon had disappeared with his usual grace and quietness.

Hiccup could leave at any moment. Without any questions or nagging.

He would have never done that though. Not without calming his conscience first, and his friend knew that.

The moon shone brightly, giving a pearly glow to the white boulders and he spotted Toothless, lying curled on his favourite rock by the shore, his scales glistening in blue and hints of fading purple in the night's aura.

His eyes were opened**, **and his muzzle was facing the water where three of the small orbs of lightning he had created were swirling and turning, chasing after one another, their subtle light reflecting in the water.

It was one of the ways Toothless enjoyed to occupy himself at night**,** and that helped him clear his mind from "parasite" thoughts.

Hiccup watched, fascinated, that game of balls of light.

It surely helped to forget about everything.

These lights would end their existence soon, flaring before they disappeared.

"I am going, Toothless," Hiccup said naturally, his voice carried far in the tranquil atmosphere.

Toothless did not react and the light-chase continued without perturbation.

The boy wobbled from toes to tips on his feet.

He wanted to be hugged. He desired a physical contact with the dragon before he left to the most dangerous fight of his life. Not the fight with Nightmare, but with the whole Viking system.

Having a non-human being as a best friend had opened him more than he could ever have been with anyone of his own species, freed from the limits imposed by human standards.

However, there were a few things which he could not change.

He would go into the battle as a Viking and respect Toothless's wish to remain in solitude.

It should have been enough for Hiccup to see the dragon.

Standing as straight as he could, he walked to the hiatus in the stone-wall, slowly dragging his feet forward.

The azure glow slid through his sight and he spurted back with a smile.

Toothless was where he expected him to be. Towering over him with gigantic peering eyes bore in his. The glowing globes were revolving around them silently as on an invisible circle.

"I am going," he repeated and scratched his friend's head as he saw that he would not try to change his mind.

He was trusted and his decision was accepted even if not understood. The lights disappeared in the anticipated small bursts of light and then, Hiccup had a great black, oval head pressed to his chest.

He touched the scaled forehead which shape and texture he could discern only by using his fingers.

"It's not a goodbye," Hiccup assured, flawlessly reading the flux of emotions coming from his friend.

Toothless breathed in harder, filling his lungs with the boy's scent, "I am scared too, bud" he said truthfully.

Hiccup would never have expected that he would one day try to soothe anyone's worry, "It might sound weird -as if anything could be weirder than already- ...but I understand your fear... and your anger," he said softly, petting the rough, black skin, "That thing in the nest... you want to kill it, don't you?" he said to himself.

The sensation he had perceived whilst Toothless observed the monstrosity was a fury heavier than any anger he had felt in his life.

The memory brought shivers to his back, "Let's talk about it once this madness is over... it will be soon. One way or the other."

Toothless wailed deeply and Hiccup affectionately scratched the spot behind the ear-antenna.

"Whatever happens, you won't be left alone, I promise... Well then" Hiccup said briskly, wiping the side of his eye and taking a step back.

As a goodbye this time, he outstretched his hand, "Why won't we do it like humans for once?" he asked cheerfully. Toothless huffed with disdain, but put his right paw outwards.

The adolescent man had too small a hand to squeeze the limb, so he gently took hold of one of the claws and shook it delicately.

"Oh man, I think writing letters in the dirt works better with your kind," Hiccup said humorously and walked to the exit, "See you tomorrow!" he said confidently with a hand wave.

Toothless and he would be reunited soon, just not in a way either could predict.

* * *

Silly story time!

It was absolutely tormenting for my humble self to attend another day at school. The rain toppled off the pane I absent-mindedly stared through, the outside aura matching my ever dark mood as I sat through on another hideously tedious biology class.

The cause of my ungodly**,** heart-ripping-skin-itching-mind-swallowing-bone-breaking-time-consuming-breath-taking- thingamajigdoomahicky living torture was not easy to put into words.

My mind was**, **after all**, **only moved by the very sophisticated problems of this world.

I did not know why everyone was so impressed by me and were telling me how wickedly smart and beautifully stunning I was, or how a group of young and older males usually in packs of two and higher, surrounded me and pleaded their undying love. They were ready to fulfil my every, even darkest desire.

Ah, why is life so hard on me?

I didn't try to draw attention to myself, yet everyone around me thought I was a stylishly walking, fashion model-perfect epitome of beauty and intelligence. However, my unrelenting mind-power has never seemed to conceive of why I might have been so popular.

"Miss BlueBella, would you mind explaining to class the mechanism of the DNA methylation process?" the teacher asked.

The teacher, as usual, was wanting me to test my knowledge about biology since, after all, I have read every biological journal, romance novel and biological romance journal in print. Including the ones written in German, Russian and Chinese. They do help to lighten my ongoing, looming phases of depression and feelings of how utterly unexceptional I am.

(**A/N; the teacher is not important to the story****, ****and I am too lazy to describe him or her.)**

I looked over from the window and enlightened the class about this topic that is not taught in a biology course until one is in an upper classman level university program.

It was too easy sometimes.

I sighed as the class gave me a standing ovation for my sheer, rare genius.

I also did a few more other amazing things that day**, **and everybody loved me for them even more.

**AN: Please do not suspect that me, as an author would not write anything about what she had said. I am creating here a pretentious illogical and perfect female character ****a typical**** teenage girl with low self esteem would connect to. Thank you. I am making my notes inside the story in bold letters to make you see how important I am.**

However, out of the uncountable collection of handsome, highly eligible and worshipful young hunks I had rejected in my life,there was only one I really liked.

And only for his looks**, **of course.

I had such a profound personality.

My lust target was a dragon sitting a few rows in front of me.

(**A/N** or AN: Since this is a dark, romantic fantasy, there is no need to question why a Medieval dragon is attending high school for modern human teenagers in the rural Pacific Northwest. These things just happen in high schools in the rural Pacific Northwest. Just browse the latest Young Adult novels and check out the latest evening TV programming for young adults, and you'll see what I mean. They provide ample evidence that werewolves, witches, mermaids, selkies, demons, zombies and even children of Greek gods as high school students are more common than you think.)

The mystically ravishing dragon had a sleek body, a long muzzle and powerful, silverfish wings folded by his oh-so- muscled sides. His tail was long and forked at the end. His head was wolf-like**, **and his whole body was cat-like with the exception of his muzzle which was as of a wolf (as I have written above, of course. I like to repeat things to show how important they are to me) . The one distinct thing about him was that he SPARKLED. His whole body had a pearly glow to him as though shattered diamonds were covering his scaled and flawless skin.

He SPAKLED in the sunlight. (But, since it was a typical rainy day like we get here in Sporks, Washington, he currently looked like a pair of old socks you find after a few years behind your bed. But never mind that.)

His name was Lux Coolan and he was just _cool_. He was mysterious, never talked with anyone and never took notes. He was too smart for that.

It was what I thought. ( It had nothing to do with the fact that the SPARKLY dragon did not actually had a limb which could hold a pen.)

Nope...nothing.

I sighed, batting my long eye lashes. I felt that there might be some chemistry going between my D-cupped self and the that gorgeous piece of draconic beef.

I knew that he was stalking me from time to time, sitting on the tree behind my bedroom and staring at me. He was, however, coming less now after my usually clueless stepfather called the police and he got a restraining order.

What was the better sign of love than a guy of any species stalking you? It was a dream of every beautiful and intelligent teenage girl like me. And that he was a SPARKLY dragon and I was only a human girl? It only fuelled my licentious desire which was called _true love._

In a desperate action I wrote a small letter and tossed him a crumpled piece of paper. With an unnerved face he started unfolding the message with his mouth. He, read it, his handsome muzzle not showing me any reaction.

His personality was dark, gloomy and he was not a human.

He was perfect.

I eagerly awaited our meeting after the school. There, I would confess my feelings.

Truth be told**,** I had tried to get his attention couple times before by jumping from high places in a hope that he would save me. I have watched a lot of movies and if you see it happen on TV, then it must be true.

He had never saved me, and I got my head hit a few times.

But I still was as smart as ever, so no harm done. It fuelled my deep, burning wishes to try harder next time.

The time passed quickly and, soon, I found myself meeting the object of my passion behind the high school gym.

I actually came up on him engaged in an activity which must have been private. He was biting on a cuddly puppy or rabbit...anything cute and cuddly and then sucking its blood. I saw a few other cute and fuzzy dead animals and birds lying around him.

"H-hello?" I asked shyly. The image of cute, dead little corpses faded away when compared to the glorious sight of the SPARKLY dragon. I could not resist him.

"Wait, I need to finish my lunch," he spoke to me in a voice which made me feel shivers of pleasure," I am a dragon-vampire. Actually I am a vegetarian vampire because I drink drinking animal blood instead of human," he said neutrally.

It was the cleverest idea I have heard in my entire life. I always thought that vegetarians ate plants, but here I was proved wrong. I only wanted to hear that masculine voice more. I did not need to ask more questions. If my love would want to drink a hamster's blood, so be it.

"I am Lux Coolen," he introduced himself, licking the blood off his lip with his long, biramous tongue.

"I am BlueBella," I spoke with a reddening face.

It was enough for us to jump at each other and, soon we wound up having wild and yet very romantic and tender sex on the pile of dead animals.

And, even though I insisted he didn't need to, he did marry me just before we had that sex. He was an old fashioned dragon, and he did not want to take a virgin girl without marrying her chastely.

If that was it took, then I was okay with being married. Luckily, we only needed to jump over a broom held by two of Lux's family members who happened to be nearby. Lux's family is so cool. They are all vegetarian vampire dragons and all are about 1000 years old and look no older than teenage dragons- and then we were married.

Ah, what a day for an ordinary girl like me to experience. I was finally able to say hello to the one I loved, then get married immediately, and then enjoy heavenly, wild and tender sex on the pile of dead, cute animal corpses.

It was really a love every girl wanted.

Now I am dying in a hospital bed. It turned out that semen of my beloved was toxic to me, but it's all right. I am pregnant with his baby. Yesterday, one of his friends, a teenage Sarmatian tribesman who can shape change into a saluki dog (all the men in his tribal are were hounds), came and told me that he is marking my unborn child as his future mate.

It is so romantic and healthy to pledge your love to an infant.

I also am glad because the young Sarmatian had been falling in mad love with me. That is nothing new, but I did feel bad that he to accept he was only second best in my affections. Lux was the true object of my precious feelings of love and loyalty, though it means my doom.

Lux could have saved me by turning me into a vampire-dragon, but he does not want to do that. Why? I never asked him.

He is too hot for me to question his perfect decisions.

* * *

For the first time in history, producing one of my silly stories brought me immense pain. It literally hurt me to spoof one of the worst books in history..

Never mind that now. I've reached over 300k words and...yeah I am quite proud of myself for being able to write so much. I want to finish this story, even if it would mean to write another 300k words:)

As you was this chapter was not original, AT ALL and it is how it had to be. It was the most important moment for Astrid and I had to show the changes in her personality. Now we will follow the movie plot more as all of the next events are crucial to the plot. Until next time.


	29. The Iconoclast

Even the murkiest of minds, used to a long life of pessimistic predictions, could, on some days, grow kind of tired of their gloomy look at the future.

Hiccup was presently having one of those days.

He considered himself a realist with a strong urge to fantasise.

The breakfast, fully prepared by his father, had ended some time ago, full of tender words of support and encouragement from the giant of a man. Stoick wore a proud smile the whole time he watched Hiccup play with his scrambled eggs and a piece of burned and iron-hard bread. Hiccup did not respond to his father's comments, one-sided as usual. He smiled an obviously fake grin at the compliments or the stories of what glory awaited him.

It should have been paradise for Hiccup. It was the situation he had always wanted, even more than killing one of the village's biggest pests. He so wanted his father's approval and love. This dream had come true after Berk's leader had returned from the dragon-nest excursion, a man acting so differently that it had caused the boy to wonder if it was still the same person.

Hiccup loved his father dearly. However, both of them had enormous troubles expressing their feelings.

Hiccup knew what he was doing. He was sure of the path he had chosen and that what he was about to do was the right thing.

Nevertheless, it did not make the pain go away from his heart every time he spotted his father peering down at him with renewed energy and bright, happy eyes.

Stoick left to meet with the awaiting villagers in the Kill Ring and as he jokingly called "to make sure the crowd will cheer loudly enough".

He also left with a few words as he closed the door behind him.

"I am proud of you**,** my son."

Oh, this was not good…

…Not good at all.

However, nobody had ever said that betrayal was easy.

Hiccup went out of his house in his regular clothes, clutching his mother's helmet to his side. There was no reason to dress up for the "ceremony"**,** as the the people he had once wanted to belong to called it. To dress formally, he would have to be excited and enjoy the joyous festivities. Nonetheless, his state of mind was obvious to deduce.

He could not stay gloomy for long,though. Just as he walked down from the steps out of his house**,** somebody said a soft greeting behind him. He turned back, surprised, and smiled.

"Morning, Astrid," he greeted, his heart beating faster.

"I am not stupid enough to ask you if everything is all right or if you are well... Did you sleep well?" Astrid asked, attempting to sound casual and tough.

"Does it count as a stupid question as well?" he queried with a weak smile. It faded as the concerned look on the girl's face did not disappear.

"I am fine...", Hiccup finally said without any convincing energy behind his assurance, "How about you?"

"I am fine...," Astrid said with mirrored enthusiasm. The boy smirked at his stupidity. If it hurt Astrid as much as it hurt him to hear such a poor lie he certainly he had learned his lesson.

"I typically save the world every day. Thankfully, today I just have one solitary, little old blood-thirsty society to change, you know?" Hiccup quipped, with an attempt at his usual sarcasm.

The bright-haired girl did not follow up on this pitiful attempt at humour.

"Shall we go?" Hiccup queried, taking the first step, head bent low, walking as if to his execution.

A gentle force touched against his hunched back. He immediately straightened his posture and looked behind.

"You look better with your head up...," Astrid said as if it were only a suggestion.

The boy followed the advice and walked forward as proudly as he could. This sort of comfort was so different from the one he had from his time together with Toothless, but it was**,** nevertheless**,** satisfying. He was a human**,** and human companionship had its effect on him. He still had to learn how to act around people**:** when to speak and how to show love to the girl closest to his heart. He had so much to learn and absolutely no time left to do it.

As long as the war between the Vikings and dragons continued, he would never have his heart at ease. His blossoming relationship with Astrid would have to wait for the right moment to take a step forward. They did not know much about each other for now**, ** and they did not need that knowledge to consider their bond a friendship.

The pair had joined the stream of people going to the Kill Ring, all bowing to the youth with truthful respect, sending smiles and cheers. Hiccup walked as a warrior should, fearless**, **and bearing an aura of unbreakable determination.

He looked ahead, not showing any weakness on his face.

Yes**,** indeed, he felt he probably did look better with his head up, after all!

Astrid**,** on the other hand**, ** appeared nervous and afraid, displaying emotions she had never showed publicly, shooting short glances at the hand Hiccup was swinging as he marched smartly.

The old walls of the Kill Ring showed themselves as the two teens took the last steps up the sloped path and started across the even ground leading to the small bridge and the arena behind it. People,of course, wondered behind the discreet curtain of raised palms to their mouths, what Astrid was doing with the village's current best entertainment.

Neither of the walking duo noticed or registered the remarks.

The building's walls seemed to tower threateningly above Hiccup's head as he stopped, breathed deeply**, ** and closed his eyes.

He promised himself that this would be the last time the arena would be used to spill blood.

As if planned, the whole teenage training class ran down from the stairs and welcomed their champion-to-be. Luckily, nobody asked about Astrid's sudden change of heart. Ever mindful, however, Hiccup still noticed Ruffnut not leaving the shield maiden's eyes for a long moment before turning to him. She wished good luck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"That's nasty!" Tuffnut commented.

"Luckily, not as much as your face," Ruffnut immediately shot back negligently and moved to the stairs, her brother by her side trying to prove his handsomeness with a barrel full of insults and threats.

Fishlegs wished Hiccup the best of luck, stuttering in excitement, wanting all the details about the Nightmare Hiccup would notice**, ** as he would have a unique "opportunity" of being very close to that dragon species.

Snotlout smashed his fist into the auburn-haired teen's arm with a Viking good luck phrase "Spill your guts out."

He did not seem to notice anything unusual about Astrid and her scrawny companion's behaviour.

Fortunately, after Snotlout disappeared into the crowd, nobody else haunted Hiccup with the prospects of glory and honour.

Hiccup and Astrid entered the small passage leading to the arena, all buzzing with the atmosphere that something spectacular was going to happen**, ** and the audience certainly would not be disappointed.

The pair stood between the entrance walls, one of them decourated with an enormous double-bladed axe. The space hid from the most of the prying eyes, giving them a poor substitute for privacy.

Gobber bustled around the combat space with several dragon handlers, inspecting the slaughtering zone one last time before the event.

"Hiccup...," Astrid spoke behind him, "Don't let that dragon catch you," she said worriedly.

The boy smiled, appreciating the concern and then frowned, looking in his father's direction.

"It's not the dragon I am worried about...," he said, revealing a small portion of his insecurity.

The gold-headed girl caught onto the emotions resonating through her stronger than she wanted to show.

"Promise me, you will be all right," Astrid said with what seemed as a hint of desperation.

Hiccup thought for a moment**, ** observing the widely, blue-eyes piercing into his heart. Should he give a false reassurance ? Or should he give the truthful answer, which might hurt her further

The short impasse dissolved into Gobber, who materialised behind the preoccupied youths and called softly to Hiccup, "It's time".

Passing a last glance at the girl, Hiccup followed his trainer. "Ya will be fine!" Gobber shot out suddenly after a quick study of Hiccup's face, "Just ' careful around it when it'll start burnin'. They have this nasty habit-," he started his encouraging comment.

"Of setting themselves on fire, I remember," the empathic teen said casually with a helpful smile, "Belive me, anything is better than the Nadder," he spoke quieter.

"Funny ya mention tha' overgrown parrot. Haven't been able to wake it up since yesterday," Gobber gave out a small sigh, "Usually happens around th' time when th' dragon trainin' is finished ...strange," he shrugged negligently.

The crowd was at the threshold of the loudest they could cheer and shout as Hiccup stopped in the middle of the fighting field.

Gobber left after a friendly pat on the youth's back. Eyes focused, the boy walked to the weapon rack and equipped himself with a small shield and a dagger.

There was no use in delaying the inevitable.

* * *

Astrid had never felt so powerless in her life. Now even when she kept on losing whilst the dragon training.

Whatever it was that she wanted to do, she strove to do everything to achieve it, whether it was to win something or to voice her opinion without any pressure to restrain herself - as she was usually correct.

Yet, the previous two days had taught her a bitter lesson about areas where her expertise was painfully limited. So she had met the boy in the morning with the solemn goal of lifting his spirits and supporting him.

His pained face threw every idea away from her head. What should she have said or done? There was a lot she had to learn in human relations**,** and she had been neglecting them for far too long.

She was not certain about how to classify her feelings for Hiccup. She would think about them when she had time.

"Nice t' see ya in a better mood tha' yesterday," Gobber accosted cheerfully, "Let's go upstairs. It will start soon," he said through the clank of the chains as the gate slid down behind him.

"I want to stay here," Astrid said adamantly, eyes locked on the scrawny figure behind the experienced blacksmith.

Yes, it was awful to be so powerless and be the observer, but she wanted to be as close as possible to what would unfold!

"Want t' be as close t' fight as possible, ey?" The massive man said with a knowing smile," Hav' fun then, Miss, and enjoy th' show!" he announced, not asking any other questions and the second, caged door latched down behind.

She had what she wanted, a place closest to Hiccup for a very simple reason. Nobody knew when he might need a hefty axe to his aid and the weapon on the wall by her right side looked as it might be just useful in case of emergency.

* * *

"I'm ready!" Hiccup said, sending another wave of cheers through the watchers. He still could sense them. Since he had entered the arena, he could feel the presences brushing against his determined mind.

_It's go time, it's go time!_ He thought to himself, trying to summon more courage for the task.

The lock on the two-winged cage door in front was released. The door immediately busted open with terrifying strength**, ** and a fast and flaming dragon shape jumped out of it.

Seeing a Monstrous Nightmare charging at you was one of the reason why they were called Monstrous and seeing the gargantuous, sharp-teethed, armoured dragon body which was on flames was enough to give you a nightmare.

The fiery mass did not attack the youth,however. Kept in isolation and a constricted space for so long**, ** the Nightmare crawled with a surprising speed up the wall. With ease, the dragon grabbed the chained ceiling, doing a circle around the cursed blockade.

The flames on the Nightmare slowly lowered in volume, revealing the reddish hide.

Not stopping its run, the dragon cast a fiery breath at the excited mob.

Unnerved, the gathered warriors stepped away from the path of the fire. The dragon was obviously panicked and weakened by the captivity. The Nightmare let out a vicious growl and then hung itself from the top of the ceiling, grabbing the chains with its claws. Its slit, yellow eyes caught the sight of the real prey beneath. The powerful and**,** indeed**,** monstrous body touched the floor with its frontal talons, still keeping hold of the fence with the hind legs.

Hiccup's face hardened as he took a step back, returning the dragon's stare. He could feel the Nightmare's mind; in fact he could now sense the mind of all the caged reptiles.

However, he could not tell exactly the state in which they were**, ** as if he were looking through a thick mist and trying to discern the shapes within.

This did not stop him from feeling the dragon's rage, as large as its body. As calmly as he could**, ** Hiccup lowered his posture and outstretched his hands, leaving himself defenceless against an incoming attack.

The viewers loved this apparent act of braveness and skill, inviting the enemy to strike first. They shouted in hungry anticipation.

They did not, however, anticipate Hiccup tossing away his smallish weapon and then also throwing his shield away**, ** which clanged loudly in the now silent Kill Ring.

It did not last long as the rabble started chattering, their voices lowered into a conspicuous whisper.

What the young warrior was doing was not brave. It was suicidal.

Carefully, Hiccup took off his "breast-hat",as he called it, and weighted it one last time in his hands, not worried the least of the Nightmare standing a mere few feet in front of him.

He lifted his eyes, looking directly into the dragon's with a hard face and then threw away his mother's protective remnant.

"I am _not_ one of them!" He said to his enemy.

The reaction was immediate.

The imprisoned creature's head followed the last item which could possibly protect this puny human and looked at the scrawny boy with renewed curiosity.

The crowd gasped**, ** and Stoick sprung up from his throne, shocked to the core.

Hiccup outstretched his hand to the Nightmare's muzzle, waiting for it to accept the connection.

"Whot's he doin'?" Somebody said loudly.

"Stop th' fight!" Stoick voice echoed through the walls,and the dragon squinted its eyes at the obnoxious sound.

"No! I want everybody to see this!" the eccentric and strangely defiant teen answered back softly, keeping eye-contact with the dangerous creature, "There is an other way! We do not need to kill them! Let me show you!" he yelled to everybody, his hand almost touching the skin between the large nostrils on the long muzzle.

The Nightmare visibly relaxed, eyes losing their dangerous look.

Stoick looked with unstoppable fury at the helmet Hiccup had thrown away. He did not know what his son was doing. However, he could not let this madness continue!

Grabbing the heavy hammer he always carried for social gatherings and warzones alike, he squeezed the handle hard.

"I _said_**,**" he shouted at full volume raising it above his head," _**Stop th' fight**_!"

He dropped the enormous sledge on the railing. The iron bent under the force, stretching horribly.

It ended Hiccup's almost successful attempt to reason with the creature.

The dragon's pupils constricted an**,** with a mighty roar**, ** it charged forward at the defenceless human which would barely serve as an appetiser.

Hiccup jumped to the side and rolled away on instinct from the jaws**, ** which snapped on the place where he had stood less than an adrenaline-filled heartbeat ago.

His mind flew into panic quickly as the fearful beast pursued him. He dodged the dagger-long teeth by suddenly changing the direction of his sprint.

He bent down**, ** and a stream of flame flew by his back.

He would not be able to avoid these attacks forever.

If only he could use the power he had felt when he punched the Nadder! If only he had Toothless by his side!

The truth was that, even with his determination and decision to face all consequences by himself, he did not want to die.

Hearing the thuds of the Nightmare following, he screamed as loud as he could, letting all the air out of his lungs out to inhale again and fight for every breath which would follow. Fight until the end.

* * *

Toothless had had nightmares again. He had had so many in his life that**,** in a way,his mind learned to accept them passively. Learned to watch one of his long-gone yet eternally remembered failures, actions or lack of thereof which marked his existence.

He could defend himself against what he could see, shield his mind from the shapes he knew. Yet, there were nightmares he could not protect himself against**,** and the ones he truly despised. Just a blurry mix of unidentifiable wisps of twisted dreams and fear. He could only endure the terrifying experience and hope to wake up, heart racing and aching and urge himself to slumber again.

And he had always failed in his attempts to reclaim the sweet oblivion of pure bliss that undisturbed sleep offered.

Toothless had just experienced one of the bad dreams he hated the most.

The mix of colours constantly switched and swam before his eyes**, **a mass of dark colours twisted and stretched**, ** lighting up with every heart beat the Fury produced. Its sound filled his head like the buzzing of an annoying insect.

He knew that he was dreaming,and he knew how terrified he was and that there was nothing he could do to prevent this ugly feeling from taking control over him.

He could already feel his forepaws twitch as he began the process of waking up, the awareness of his psychic form returning to him when the dream changed. The heartbeat resounding in his ears, veins pulsating with a heavy echo overlapped with his own as he realised that the sounds which laced his vision were not his.

An ever stronger sense of terror struck him, his breath quickening.

With an overwhelming sense of urgency he woke up, fully alert, head raised high, letting out a last few quickened breaths before full understanding washed over his scared mind.

_That shout! Hiccup!... He is dying!_

He immediately rushed to the canyon wall and leaped onto its surface,blindly clawing its smooth exterior, seeking any place to support himself. To no avail his acute talons attacked the steep walls of his hiding place. He jumped again at the wall, aiming for the nearest rock which he could use for climbing to his wanted escape.

His first try failed,though, as he fell down. Only one of his paws took ahold of the cliff's edge.

It was too high to reach**, **however, he was not in a mood to let go to despair. He _would_ leave the boundaries of his prison since this feeling of absolute dread was far too strong to ignore. With two skilful jumps**, ** his forward paw clawed into the edge**,** but he had no strength to lift his whole body weight on it.

He dangled pitifully, the screech of his claws against the stone informing him of the loosening, precious hold. He kept thinking of Hiccup and his desire to protect him.

That wish compelled him, filled him with a power he had never felt before at the time he had followed his vengeful yearning.

He forced his leg to work harder. The muscles constricted to their limits, sending a wave of pain as they stretched close to tearing. Ignoring the horrendous ache, he roared as his frontal leg started to tremble.

His eyes constricted into tight slits as he recalled the energy into his body. He never had the courage before to use so much of it for fear of damaging himself.

He had his source of bravery now, he had the means of going beyond his limits, he _would_ break himself and force his body to rebuild again if he had to.

He roared again, life energy filling his body until it became hard to breathe and his lungs burned and heart beat painfully, his whole body in agony.

For the third time he roared powerfully, a single command he had taught himself so long ago.

"Release!"

As if he was made from nothing but air, his paw lifted him with such power that he flew upwards, over the brim, and crashed into the innocent tree which stood by the edge.

Surprised a bit, he gently stood up, stunned by his own strength. He usually could control the energy only for a short time, he was never able to control its flow and keep it steady and fully bound to his will.

Something had changed about him. Without wasting any more time in thought, he ran, leaving behind himself only a billowing cloud of dust and destroyed earth which could not hold against the power of his speed.

The dragon moved so quick that only a blur could be seen of him… a true shade. With such astonishing speed he would reach Hiccup sooner than he ever expected, but not as soon as he ever wanted.

* * *

Immediately after Hiccup's plan did not… go as expected, Astrid knew what to do.

Knowing the boy, his plans _usuall_y did not go as he expected and usually ended with a few too many explosions. But this time it seemed Hiccup had beaten all his personal records as to how screwed up his plans could be, and as to how many explosions could happen.

She took the axe from the wall and shoved the curved blade beneath the grate. Using it as a lever, she pulled the heavy fence upwards, just enough to slide herself through the narrow opening. The boy's screams doubling her efforts.

She crawled under the bars and saw Hiccup narrowly avoid one of the jaw snaps the Nightmare launched at him.

She sprinted to the nearest weapon stand and took a hammer, throwing it at the combating beast in a swift and precise gesture.

The weapon crashed into the reddish skull as harmlessly as a child's toy, but it was enough to advert the dragon's attention.

"Come on!" Astrid shouted at the gigantic creature.

She did not have to wait for long.

She ducked beneath the weapons rack as the fire consumed the space outside. She waited patiently until the igneous charge ended**, ** and as it did, she lunged out of her hiding spot, trying to spot Hiccup.

She saw him by the wall at the opposite side of the ring. Now, all she had to do was to divert the Nightmare's attention again and long enough for the youth to run away.

"Run to the gate on my signal!" Astrid ordered, readying herself.

"But-," came a hesitant answer.

"Now!" The shield-maiden shouted as the long neck lunged with another vicious jaw-snap.

She dodged it perfectly and rolled in the air over an enormous wing which swung at her. She only had to keep the raging dragon occupied for a few moments more. She could do it!

When Astrid soon ran out of successful diversions, the reddish Nightmare caught a glimpse of the other human, namely Hiccup, trying to escape by the wall.

The spiked tail fell, and the scrawny youth jumped back at the last moment, losing the opportunity to flee.

As Astrid was getting ready to become the primary target again, even if it meant using her fists on the dragon, the massive gate behind her clanged hard as it opened with tremendous force.

Hiccup's father stood there, waving his hand furiously for her to move out, appearing terrified. He was the very first Viking to react after the young female warrior attacked the Nightmare.

"Come 'ere! Fast!" he boomed commandingly.

Astrid took no more chances. If anyone could take care of the scaled problem in the ring better than she, it would be Stoick.

Very soon, she was held protectively in Stoick's safe, powerful hands.

However, Hiccup did not have such luck. The Nightmare's frontal wing-paw's three talons closed around the youth like a cage.

The Chieftain did not take the axe from the ground. As he yelled out a ear-splitting battlecry, he charged at the beast endangering his son bare handed. But he did not have time to attack.

* * *

Toothless was losing control over the flow of energy.

He travelled the way to the mountain near the village, following the clear scent of humans as quickly as a thought.

He was almost at the mountain peak, the ground getting a hard beating from his paws.

The noise strengthened, his overly sensitive senses catching more details than he bothered to care for.

He heard Astrid's scream commanding Hiccup to run. Alas, the teen remained surprisingly silent for somebody in life-threatening danger.

The Fury reached the mountain peak without even needing to breathe deeper.

He saw the place from where the commotion buzzed noisily and automatically jumped off the pinnacle, diving at the centre of the construction.

An Eska was in there, and it held his Scalgertar under its paw, its head raised to terminate Hiccup's life.

With a shriek of unstoppable rage, Toothless dived without opening his wings from a height which would have normally killed any dragon.

The distinct cry made the Eska look up, its eyes seeing his demise.

A precisely charged, blue bolt of energy melted through the Ring's nest-celling as if it did not exist and exploded at the crimson, vast back.

The Nightmare shrilled in pain. However, this was only the beginning of the attack.

With terrifying force, Toothless landed on the creature's legs. The bones he had crashed against bent from the pressure,and the Fury's claws dug deeply into the heavily armoured flesh.

The Nightmare lifted its wings and shook its back exactly the way the persistent black dragon had predicted.

He strengthened his grip on his right front paw**, ** and the Nightmare cried in pain. It rolled to the side Toothless tortured, hence releasing its intended human meal.

The Fury did not release his hold on the enemy's flesh as he crashed on the ground. A mass of bodies, claws and scales twisted repeatedly in a mortal embrace, not feeling pain or exhaustion.

For the final strike, Toothless let go and moved forward to slit the neck and make an instant kill in one precise slash.

However, the Nightmare apparently knew one or two things about battling a ravaging Night Fury on its back. Even one who was almost ready to decapitate it.

Toothless felt the energy build up inside the Nightmare's body too late.

Just as he moved his talons in an arc the muscular neck lowered itself, avoiding the strike. The bat-winged dragon jumped at the nearest wall, the leopard-shaped creature successfully aiming his body into the wall as it shattered.

Falling from the wall's newest picturesque depression, the second most feared firedrake twisted on the spot and crashed on Toothless's body, pinning him down with the whole weight of the Fury's body concentrated in its claws.

The medium-sized Night Fury opened his eyes after a short loss of breath and growled gutturally.

Now Toothless noticed that he was fighting a female. They were bigger, stronger and much better at battling than males; and the jaw this dragoness wielded was also much more powerful than his.

However, it was a mistake as big as the Nightmare herself to to assume that she could overwhelm the smaller dragon. She was undeniably able to control her energy and make herself temporarily as an almost even enemy. However, she had the same problem Toothless had had up until a few moments ago.

She could only be powerful for a short moment.

The Fury roared with a vengeance and shoved against his foe with all the power he had.

The hard-scaled dragoness flew, albeit without using her wings, the full length from one side of the Kill Ring to the other. Her eyes slit in surprise as she crashed again onto a wall.

The impact made the whole construction shake so hard that several people had to catch the railing not to lose their balance.

Toothless rose to his feet,panting noisily.

He could not restrain or stabilise the currents from the Tagma racing inside his body. Neither could he release them completely as he would surely go into shock from it and most probably lose consciousness.

He released most of the Tagma-power, leaving only a subtle buzzing beneath his skin and a strong need to sleep. But this waning in his power would not stop him from ending the danger to his clanmate. Permanently.

The dragoness stoop up, flagging, her eyes losing their maddened glow. She was not a danger anymore. Now she was an easy target. The easier the better.

"Toothless! What are you doing here?" Hiccup's panicked voice brought a short-lived serenity to the Night Fury's mind.

"You're hurt!" Scalgertar breathed out as if he was also in pain. Indeed, the most hated dragon in the village was bleeding heavily from the slash-cuts the Nightmare had given him as she pinned him against the ground.

He smirked as his smaller counterpart studied his injuries. It was a real relief to see that Hiccup was alive and well. Except for his now ripped up skin-covers**, ** he did not appear hurt.

"You'd better go!" Hiccup exclaimed suddenly, futilely trying to push the great, black snout away,"Go! Leave!" he pleaded without success.

The reason for Hiccup's haste was swarming in greater numbers around Toothless as the humans started jumping off the walls surrounding them, their weapons appearing from their clothes, some picking from the weapon stands. All eyes were now cold and ready to battle. To be victorious once again.

_How fortunate to have prey come on their own will to die!_ The coal-coloured dragon thought with raising satisfaction.

He _wa_s actually tired**, ** after all. The Eska already gotten up to her feet and trotted away to the farthest point of the ring, curling inwards to appear as small as possible. She was more afraid of these petty humans than Toothless was!

He would make sure to rectify this false belief once he had slaughtered every attacking human here and then slashed the Eska's throat.

A powerful yell caught his attention over everybody else's. He _knew_ this sound, he knew the posture of the man charging at him with a heavy axe.

How delightful! He would kill the leader and then the others would scatter and become an easy game.

Raising thrill, muscles quivering from weakness, hum of the blood in his ears.

How he missed brushing with death, how he missed the feeling of his claws slashing through flesh!

His wrath raised as Stoick ran at him.

_Here_ was the cause of Hiccup's misery, the cause of his fear and alienation. Toothless knew that the huge Viking would not hesitate to use his weapon on his son after killing the Night Fury. Those creatures did not have any concept of mercy.

Toothless snarled and charged forward, the warriors at once running at him, each trying to get a hit.

The first two tried to block the sleek dragon's negligent paw swipe with their shields. They crashed on the wall, their bucklers shattered. With a sharp tail swing, Toothless caught three of the yelling hulks, making them airborne before they crashed hard against the stone floor.

_How weak!_ The Fury thought**, ** sweeping his tail two times more**, ** and two more Vikings were thrown away.

_Weak_!The dragon repeated in his mind with blinding rage. He jumped quicker than Stoick could react, bringing both man and dragon to the ground, rolling violently.

_You're all weak!_

He was triumphant. His enemy was lying below him, dizzy from the shock, unarmed as the axe had left his hand.

Toothless charged a bolt in his throat to vanquish and put an end to the danger once and for all.

"No!" Hiccup shrieked, so desperate and powerful that it caused Toothless's energy to disperse and the killing intent to leave the dragon.

Toothless looked back at the boy who had let out such dire scream, eyes relaxed, whimpering softly, his whole posture asking one question.

_Why?_

He only had time to take a glimpse at the terrified face of his cherished clanmate.

Then a rock hard fist struck him hard in the jaw, the bright light flashed before his eyes, taking away his vision and numbing his brain for a precious moment. The humans used the opportunity perfectly, jumping on him in great numbers, pressing his every limb to the ground while one of them closed his jaws shut forcefully making sure with his dear life it would stay that way.

Suddenly, the air became disgustingly scented with the smell of male human sweat.

When Toothless regained his full awareness, he could only move his eyes and growl throatily, promising vindictive retaliation from between locked jaws.

The Chieftain was already being helped to stand by one of his subjects, wobbling and rubbing his head.

He very soon recovered as a dark-haired man with shiny, emotionless eyes, was trying to give the dropped war hammer back to the village chief.

"Please don't hurt him! Please don't do it!" Hiccup shouted as a plea, freezing Toothless's heart with its sincerity at how the boy had shed all pride, desperate to save the Night Fury.

It moved the Fury, but he did not expect any mercy from the people surrounding him.

Stoick looked at the proffered hammer briefly and then at his son, hand moving towards the weapon.

_And you consider me an emotionless beast_, Toothless thought with dark satisfaction.

"Put him with th' others," the Chieftain decided suddenly, gesturing the weapon away with a wave of his hand, "I want th' dragon alive... I hav' somethin' t' discuss first."

He raised his strikingly green eyes from the Fury and picked up the fallen helmet from the ground with movements the captured dragon could only consider as careful and measured as the human leader put the head protection on his head carefully.

He did not march to Hiccup at first, but bent over another helmet, very similar to his and looked at it for a moment with a blank face before grabbing his offspring by the arm and dragging him away.

The boy passed the Fury with a few short glances, but remained quiet and passive.

Toothless tried to roar and get free, but the dark-haired man immediately hit him in the head with an axe's handle.

That human knew where to hit to take away strength.

Hiccup's scaly rescuer had no power left to summon any of his life energy. The side effects of the abuse he had imposed on his body to control a force he was not ready to wield, were beginning to take their toll.

He would try to keep himself awake as long as possible before his consciousness faded into darkness. Perhaps he would see Hiccup one more time, hear his voice once more...

He was lifted and placed into a contraption, bracers wrecking of iron and blood closed around his legs and muzzle. He then saw a the familiar face staring at him from the narrow opening in the wall.

The female with hair Hiccup described as golden was keeping her eyes on his and then, almost unperceptively, Toothless nodded.

Astrid's face hardened and she nodded back secretively.

She left then in a hurry, leaving the dragon with his captors.

That was a bit of relief. Hiccup still had allies**, ** and Toothless would use this opportunity to gather his strength as fast as possible and break free.

He was still alive and therefore, the fight still continued.

* * *

"I should've known! I should've seen the signs!" Stoick said to himself loudly, pulling open the enormous iron door and then released the traitorous excuse of a son in front of him. The boy stumbled from the hard push but soon recovered his balance, facing his father uneasily.

Stoick's voice echoed clearly in a narrow, but tall passage in the mountain dug decades ago by the first settlers and now used to keep the livestock secure in case of dragon raid.

This place also provided the privacy the Chieftain wanted.

He was furious, shocked, hurt, disappointed beyond belief.

This was not one of his boy's customary pranks that would make everybody talk about it in an uproar for a while but then settle down and let things get back to normal.

Nothing would get back to normal anymore.

Where had Stoick made a mistake? Should he have guided his son more? Been more patient? Or harder? Not let so many things go unpunished?

It was Stoick's fault.

What a shame. Shame on him. Shame on his clan's name.

"Dad-!" Hiccup started**, ** obviously fishing for an excuse.

"We had a deal!" Stoick exploded, pacing nervously from one side of the corridor to another, his cloak flapping with every sharp turn he had made. He did not know what to say besides relating to a simple deal they made as Hiccup had agreed for him to participate in the dragon training.

To be strong, to fight with honour. To kill dragons. To be a Viking. To be like everybody else.

"I know- but that was before... It's so complicated," Hiccup bit his lip to think of what to say next, pulling his hair in absolute frustration, a subtle gesture compared to the tormenting emotions he had felt.

Stoick rolled his palms into tight fists. That was too much for him to handle. Never in his life had he imagined that all of what his son had ever exhibited would transform into... this.

"So everythin' ya did in th' arena durin' trainin'...a trick? A lie?"He shouted, towering over his child.

"No... Yes, I was wrong, I should've told you before- _please_ be mad at me! _Be_ mad at me! Just don't hurt Toothless!" Hiccup begged, holding his ground.

"Tooth- th' dragon? You're worried about _it_ instead of the _people_ that beast almost killed?" Stoick bellowed immediately.

…Had the boy actually _named_ one of those beasts. Things had gone much too far! How could his son not understand such basic elements of the life on this island?

"He was only protecting me! He is not dangerous!" Hiccup howled.

The Chieftain grinded his teeth together and made a hard step forward, standing almost toe to toe with the small boy.

"They hav' killed hundreds of us!" The gigantic leader shouted in his deep voice.

"And we have killed _thousands_ of them!" His son screamed back immediately, finally finding his arguments, "They only defend themselves...They have to raid us, they are forced to! There is that _thing_ in their island, that's the one causing the trouble! It's something-,"

Hiccup rushed his explanation to which Stoick did not pay any attention except for one detail.

"Island?" he chimed in, his eyes glistening menacingly like those of a beast of prey," So ya'vebeen t' th' nest?" he hissed in a calmer and much grimmer tone.

This helped him to regain focus. It was his obsession, the one, true and _only_ way to end this devastating war.

"N-nest?" Hiccup stammered, "…Did I say nest? I meant..."

"How did ya find it?" Stoick interrupted, not raising his voice over a dark tone which conveyed with crystal clarity that lies and stalling would not work.

"_ I _didn't. Toothless did. Only a dragon can find it" his son said, imprisoned by his father's green stare, throwing all pretence away.

_This_ was an invaluable piece of information! The Berk Chieftain finally had what he needed, thanks to his child. He now had a plan all ready in his mind. Such a simple thing and one so obvious on retrospect.

"No-no dad! You don't understand!" Hiccup ran past his father and tried to block his way to the door, "You can't win this-I promise you! Dad!" Stoick passed him completely ignoring his words, "Dad it's something you've never faced before, you have no chance to win this!" he ran and grabbed the enormous hand to stop the steps of Berk best warrior, "For once in your life, _**will you listen to me**_!" Hiccup wailed, his voice breaking.

The Chieftain swung the hand with small palms on it, casting the youth onto his back and breaking the contact between them.

"You've thrown your lot in with them...," Stoick said quietly, already grieving because of what he had to say next, words that Hiccup- and he- would remember for the rest of his life.

"You're not a Viking...you're not my son."

In one swift moment, Stoick had become the last of his line, a man who had no wife or heir.

Heavy hearted, he stepped over the door and swung them close. He wanted to close this chapter of his life as easily and painlessly as these doors behind him.

His words were final, incontrovertible and rightful.

However, the great leader stopped his march to victory and for a little moment, during the time of a heartbeat, a crazy thought flashed in his mind. To take his words back, to ran past the thick layer of wood and iron, separating him from the person he loved…

For the truth was, nothing Hiccup did or would have done could end his feelings for his child.

During that single heartbeat, he dreamed, he wanted, then pushed away his desires and mourned what he had now lost.

Then he died a bit inside.

Pushing away tears, changing his heart into the shard of ice, he lifted his head and, putting on a expression of fake calmness, he faced the day with the strong resolve to end his people's suffering.

"Ready the ships!" He yelled to the small group of warriors, gathered at the foot of the stairs he was descending.

The men mumbled something between them, only Spitelout not joining the discussion. He held the helmet Hiccup had thrown away in the Ring in his hands.

As the Chieftain neared**, ** he took his wife's memento and frowned dangerously when nobody rushed to fulfil his order.

"Sire," Stoick's younger brother started in a soft, but determined voice," Might ya be tellin' us what of th' boy first?" he asked measuring the red-bearded men's eyes as if evaluating if they still held the charisma and power needed to command.

"I'll announce it on th' gathering I'll hold with ya an' village wardens," the Chieftain announced darkly," I've found a way t' find a nest an' I don't want to waste it on fruitless chatter'," he said through his teeth.

"Indeed. However, we can't start another excursion without the Elders permission... which you will work on as we ready th' weapons an' transport," he added, catching his relative's though-flow," Ar' ya certain of it?" he said quizzically.

"Don't ya dare t' ask me that!" Stoick exclaimed, the fury of emotions showing for a moment as a few of the gathered warriors trembled.

"My apologies," Spitelout said sincerely. If anything, he was feeling excited. His brother was still useful to the village and had a knowledge which might end the war, "Ready th' ships!" he repeated the order to the men which at once ran off leaving them alone. Before he could leave as well however, Stoick put his hand on his shoulder.

"Sent fo' Gobber. Tell 'im t' take th' traitor t' th' Council Hall t' wait fo' th' meetin' an' th' verdict," he said to the First Commander.

"Immediately," Spitelout agreed calmly, bowing his head.

"I'm not ready t' surrender my leadership position yet... but after this mission...," Stoick said in a clear suggestion.

The dark-haired men put his hand over his brother's strongly.

"We will end this war an' we will do it together," he promised.

The talk concerning power and village status would have to wait," Won't yer son try t' run?" he asked, as delicately as he could.

"Run? Where to? We ar' on an island," he said as evenly as he could and finished with a truth he had learned long ago, "There's no way of escapin' this place."

* * *

"Why does it have a saddle on its back?"

"I'm tellin' ya, he was riding th' bloody thing!"

"Ride? Phooey! I want t' puke 'bout touching tha' beast with nothin' bu' my hammer!"

"Aye. What is tha' dragon anyway? Never seen one like this."

"I don't care what is this...bu' whatever it is, I don't fancy tha' look in his eyes."

One of the guards hunched down to take a better look at the unknown creature.

"It's a Night Fury, yer heard its screech an' saw its fire as it fell on our heads,and I would not get yer handsome any face closer to the beast."

"Chains hav' a few eyes loose," the new, commanding and powerful voice joined the conversation.

As if to prove the point**, ** Toothless' muzzle shot forward and hit the human in the nose. Had a belt not closed the powerful jaws, the Viking would now be missing half of his face.

"Told ya," the powerfully-built male stated dryly. The sentinels did not need to be told twice and they stepped away with amazing speed at the word "Night Fury", cursing under their breath about deviltry and cursed breeds. The small crowd around took a hasted few steps away.

Only one man stayed, and gazed at the most terrifying dragon species in existence with mild interest.

"Exactly as in Hiccup's drawings...," he mused to himself, his voice audible only for him and his unexpected fire-breathing "guest".

Toothless identified now the stranger as Scalgertar's master, the one he always spoke with high respect and smile. His clanmate's smile was good, therefore the blacksmith was good as well.

He had to be, as all of the techniques Hiccup had used to make him fly again had been taught to him by that person.

That fact automatically earned Gobber a dragon's regard.

The scaled dragon warrior's eyes dilated and he stared back at the blacksmith curiously. This touching get-acquainted session was disturbed as Toothless started to shiver and muscles constricted uncontrollably.

Not even a shadow of pity slipped past Gobber's face as he spoke to the guards.

"Somethin's wrong with th' dragon! Bring some blankets an' cover th' Fury with 'em," he turned to the guards. The reaction was obvious, both of them scoffed however, their face expressions melted under the dragon handler's eyes.

"Stoick wants tha' beast alive and I _will_ do everythin' t' make it so," Gobber declared coldly.

"Nicely said, my friend," Spitelout said as he entered the scene from the side," I must apologise, but I'll require yer assistance with a certain..ah- very small, matter," he said gently, raising a hand to embrace the forger by his shoulder and spoke to him in a whisper.

Toothless did not understand a word as sudden buzzing engulfed his hearing. It became almost unbearable, splitting the skull and dispelling his thoughts.

Whiteness filled his vision, not gradually but with the speed of his claws there was only a bright, warmly lighted colour around him.

There were no more sounds, no more pain. He could think again and felt light as if he had had a good rest. It all did not make sense. Was he dreaming already?

No. His dreams were never so peaceful and dull.

Unless he was not dreaming his dream.

To take hold over one's mind required some time and it was never absolutely painless or at least undetectable.

However, rules cannot apply to something one has never experienced before.

"It is about time you showed your rotting self," he growled at no one in particular.

"Indeed," a softly voiced answer came to the dragon's surprise, speaking in Norse and in a tone he knew. All too well. It could not be. A clearly visible human appeared in front of him. Not in a mirage or from a distortion. It was as sudden as the blink of an eye.

"I've yearned to... ah, _meet_ you... not the best use of this word as we do not have a physical contact right now...," Hiccup's image said, musing with a hand on his chin and a raised eyebrow. He no longer appeared scratched up with torn hide covers from the ring battle.

"Who are you?" Toothless snarled, however**,** not with the violence he would have wished.

Whoever this was, it was infinitely more powerful than he was.

"I've wanted to know more about you! That certainly fits better," the Hiccup imposter said excitedly and continued with a smile, "As you have ingeniously noticed, I am not your cherished human, but I have taken this form to keep you from being stressed than you already are... Tagma overuse is dangerous**, ** and I'm happy to see that you now feel more at ease," the stranger took a quick breath, sporting a self-satisfied smirk, "By asking who am I, do you supposedly mean my identification code, or name? I've never had a clan to begin with**, ** and I have had more names than I cared to remember. But you can call me 'Seven'," he enunciated gregariously, "My turn now. Who are _you_?"

Toothless kept silent.

"I would prefer to give you some sort of a name ... how about…" Seven pondered again**, ** and Hiccup's face lost its beaming expression and his eyes glistened darkly, "…the Monster? Or the _Viking_ would be more fitting. You've certainly slain more dragons in your life than any of the humans populating this island," the cryptic being said grimly, "There are stories of a very young Night Fury who one day slaughtered almost the third part of the whole Nest in one night, filling the beach with dead bodies."

Toothless's eyes narrowed. However, he did not answer back.

"We both know it was not an ordinary occurrence. A famished, weakened and inexperienced youngling could not have possibly done what you did. Even your fight today was far below the power you would need to possess to claim such a high victim count. How did you do it?" the being using Hiccup's image asked.

"What would the answer achieve?" The Fury asked, going along with this talk he felt had no purpose.

"Satisfy my curiosity for a start," Seven said naturally," However, the only answer I could come up with is that you were trained, nourished with knowledge and ability. I would love to hear more about your relationship with... sorry, how do you call your Master?" he asked with interest and turned back as Toothless slashed at him.

As the dragon learned**, ** attacking in the space he was in was just like slashing through the air. Just without the presence of any air.

"I have no master! IT was a mere savage! A destroyer! Not a master!" He roared mightily, "How dare you insult me**!** You possess detailed knowledge of me, so you _must_ know what annihilation crossed me and my clan!"the Fury hissed venomously. At this point he understood that he was not using his vocal cords to convey the message, but his own thoughts.

Seven sent no thoughts forth of his own, looking at him studiously, Hiccup's face as emotionless as the blank space around. It made the projection -or whatever it was- look inhumane, bearing a dead expression the real Hiccup never had.

The scrawny youth was everything but blank and emotionless.

At that very moment, Toothless started to feel afraid of the thing in front of him with the kind of fear he knew the best.

"I was thinking of when you would appear again, monster," the Fury stated as emotionlessly as he could. He noticed that his legs were shaking even in this mind-created world. How quaint. "You may take any form you want, but you cannot deceive me! Torment me, but I will never crumble. You are weakening and I will end your life soon!" he snarled.

Seven's face livened at those words.

"I have been called a monster and a destroyer many times, but...," he took a breath, "you must mistake me with somebody else for**,** you see, I am not the monster you absolutely hate and want to bring doom to... I'm … well… another kind of monster," he said quite happily for somebody who declared himself a monster.

"I said you _won't_ deceive me! You _feel _the same! As-," Toothless howled with ferocity.

"As nothingness?" Seven suggested, merely raising a reddish eyebrow, "As an oblivion? As a dark abyss in which you look and you can't see through the darkness to know what is at the bottom of it while the darkness is looking back at you? That sort of feeling?" he said with the tone Hiccup called irony.

The image sighed, seeing a deadly stare.

"You call the being... IT," Seven now emitted the name in dragon tongue, even though the warbled hiss was impossible to pronounce with human speech abilities, "It means '_the one without any presence_'. There are three... kinds of …beasts which can leave such an impression. You were unlucky enough to meet one kind of them. Maybe it will be a bit of a consolation to you, but IT is the last of _his_ kind," Seven said evenly.

"_What_ are you?" Toothless asked, taking a step back, his decision to look prideful forgotten.

"Me? I've told you, I'm Seven," the human-appearing being said as if it were something obvious.

"You can understand me, therefore you are not human. You know about me and my past. You must be one of my kind, though you take the form of a human" the dark Fury said quietly.

Seven smiled sadly, "I'm neither human nor dragon... I am something in between... not here or there, stuck in between...," he spoke and looked as if he were deep in thought. His face brightened quickly**, ** though, as he looked at Toothless again, "Whether you believe me or not, I will leave it to your judgment. For now, let's talk more about you," he proposed openly.

"Why would you want knowledge you already know. I also do not trust you," the crippled black dragon said with a meek spite, retreating a few steps. For reasons unknown to him, the silhouette of his interlocutor always was at the same distance across from him even if Toothless never saw Seven walk after him. The latter spotted the dragon looking briefly at his static legs.

"Space is such a quaint thing in here," Seven gestured at the arena, "Your mind is so used to having a ground beneath that you already have the belief that you are walking on something flat. How can you see a distance in a place where such a thing does not exist?" He asked. At the same moment, he disappeared and immediately flashed in front of Toothless's eyes. The Fury roared in surprise and started sprinting away. Seven followed him by his side, looking as strolling, putting step after step without any haste.

"Seeking direction is also futile," he added with humour and appeared upside down as if he walked on something in the white space, matching the running dragon's speed.

Toothless stopped his escape, seeing it as senseless and a tad impossible.

"One last thing," Seven said casually. And Toothless grew then sure that whatever he would be informed about, it would not be pleasant, "It is correct to assume that you stand on something... but as you are kept in place only by your faith how you can be sure you are not constantly falling?" Seven said with an angelic toothy Hiccuppy smile.

The word _fallin_g rang inside the Fury's mind as he discounted shortly such possibility. As the thought that his captor might be correct, he felt the well-known pull of the gravity on him, and his body began rotating as he most certainly began falling.

He issued a less-than-dignified shriek, cursing Seven's way of toying with him.

"Stop it at once!" he cried desperately, revolving without any co-ordination. He felt as if he was constantly in one place, not getting nearer or farther from anything. However, the gut-wrenching sensation of gravitation having its pull on him was too realistic. As if it was something hilarious, Seven swam calmly on his back through space to near the panicking dragon.

"It might help if you thought of someplace safe... just close your eyes, relax and imagine a place you would like to be in right now," the Hiccup-lookalike who was neither human nor dragon suggested casually.

Following the advice, Toothless closed his eyes and tried to think of anything safe with all his might. He did not expect anything to happen; he just craved for this dropping experience to end.

"Much better now, isn't it?" Hiccup's voice said.

The iridescent scaled beast opened his eyes to the view he really wanted to see.

"It's quite beautiful in here," Seven said, inclining Hiccup's head in appreciation, semi-sitting on the grey boulder that was partially submerged in the lake.

"That's my canyon," Toothless stated instantly as he sat on the spot by the fire-stone he used to warm Hiccup.

For reasons unknown to him, he felt sad as he looked at the boy's face by the lake, looking identical as his clanmate's. Even if it was not real, it still hurt.

"I want to see my human again. Let me go...please," he said calmly.

Seven looked at the sky, red from the sun in dusk, the Fury's favourite part of the day**, ** and the dragon sensed a strong wave of sadness.

"You will see him, young drake...," the being using the Viking boy's image said gently, "You will see him as the sky pours with fire and the ground yells and cries with the pain and violence you crave so much."

He then turned his head to Toothless**, ** and his eyes had an unreal glow to them, capturing permanently the Fury's mind, "You will fight the IT-monster with your Soul-Giver and, most certainly**, ** both of you will die in that fight. Knowing that, would you still choose to let yourself be lead- to your death, young drake?" he asked.

Toothless had to answer the truth. His answer was immediate**, ** and not once did his heart waver.

"I would," he said adamantly, "I want to kill IT. It is the most important thing to me. It is my life goal. I value it more than anything, even, I am sad to say, more than my human."

This was how he felt. He felt and would feel strongest about killing his biggest enemy. His life, his mind would never feel tranquil. He would be haunted so long as he did not eradicate this being from existence.

And he also knew Hiccup would choose to follow him.

Seven adverted his amazing gaze, for the moment appearing as red as the sky reflecting in them.

"Then, go. You've made your choice, young drake. I hope you will find serenity in your life**, ** whether in eternal darkness or in the brightness of a new day," his calm voice soothed.

"We will meet again, I think, " Toothless trilled a statement.

Seven put a peaceful smile as if pushing away the ugliness of the thing he was about to say.

"I really hope we won't."

The scene disappeared, only the light was the same, the same sun dyed the horizon with red as the light attacked his eyes. Pain and exhaustion returned to the dragon. He whimpered once, getting used to the sudden invasion of stimuli.

"It is still alive, I've told ya!" One of the guards with a mean axe, standing next to the chained Fury said to his friend, a guard as well, jerking his head to the struggling dragon.

"Thor almighty! I thought tha' th' beast is dead. It did not blink even once! Gobber would kill us if something happened t' th' devil," he said with a bit of worry and then spit plentifully at the Ring's floor as he voiced his opinion about having to keep the village's most hated dragon alive.

Toothless breathed deeply, listening to the pain in his muscles, feeling pulsations as if he had his whole body on fire.

He mastered the excruciating feeling by dreaming of meeting Hiccup once again and killing IT.

He let himself be fully consumed by the yearning for revenge. It was what he was lived for. Seven's message was a happy one. He would die, but he would have his chance to end the gigantic beast's life. And IT was the last of its kind.

_How_ he would manage eliminating it was not his concern. When the time came, he would be ready. And there was no doubt in his mind that Hiccup would be as well.

* * *

AN: One more chapter (or so)... I can do this! And then I will be free to write whatever I want! Freeeeeeeeeee!

Until next time.


	30. Something Ends, Something Begins

**AN: I am still alive! And writing!**

**Thank you to Fjord Mustang and my other, mysterious beta-reader. I would not be here now without you guys!**

**Update 16.01.2012. Thanks to Anhedral for advanced edits and additional proofing. Cheers mate!**

* * *

The Council Hall was bursting at its seams from the plethora of people gathered, acting surprisingly silently. Putting a judgment on nobody other than the Chieftain's son was not a common occurrence. In fact, it was the first time a Berk Chieftain had to punish his offspring so severely, and for the unforgivable offense of treason.

The crowd became an agitated mass of raised voices and seething yells after Stoick announced the verdict.

Hiccup's trial would be postponed due to the nature of emergency.

The mob was silenced fast, however, when Spitelout raised his voice, reciting the law which clearly stated that war-related activities always came first, even taking precedent over other legal matters.

As an argument to support his idea, the Chieftain used the information he allegedly got from Hiccup, who had willingly shared it with him as an act of remorse of his actions. Stoick accented heavily "willingly shared" and "remorse".

As if to prove the facts, the Elder tapped the floor with her stick, announcing end of the meeting. Soon, only Stoick was left with the Wardens and his brother, giving away last orders. Destroying the Nest was an absolute priority, and the powerful leader predicted that the excitement of the incoming battle and the possibility of destroying the plague which haunted them for so many generations would soon make people forget about his traitorous son and concentrate on the task at hand.

It also meant that Stoick's leadership days were almost over. He had no heir, and he did not plan on having another child. The glory of battle and freeing the village from dragons would not last forever, and people would start to question his position and demand him to choose another leader.

The Hall emptied. Hiccup was taken away, his expression dead, pale, hunched and completely expressionless, his legs chained to restrict his movements. Stoick realized his son's dead, careless expression would probably be the same one when the Viking chieftain returned to Berk to pass the final sentence on his son.

The Elder stayed to share a few words with Stoick. The enormous man listened with one ear, still disbelieving how calmly he received the blessing from the elderly woman. The gods surely must have been on his side.

The departure was scheduled for the first thing in the following morning after all the equipment had been loaded. This involved a dozen catapults and a few centars of sharp iron and steel.

Stoick, after talking with the village seer, moved back from the circular table with the map of the known area where the dragon nest would be. He then sat on his throne, sunk into the seat leathers, and rested his head on a hand. He leaned his arm against an elaborately decorated armrest.

His sigh was the loudest sound in the hall, aside from the torches sizzling on the walls. He did not look up at the incoming footfalls against the floor. Nor at the very distinctive voice well known to all in the village.

"He's yer_ son_, Stoick," that accusatory, dark voice said quietly and clearly.

"He _was_, Gobber...," the Chieftain replied from his still, seated pose, not bothering to raise his voice or show any reaction.

Instead of reminding his subject of his more authoritative rank, Stoick asked as normally as he could," Did ya knew what Hiccup was doin'?"

"I had my suspicions...," the blacksmith admitted honestly," The evidence was overwhelming, yet...the idea of th' boy downin' a Fury an' befriending it...I would've never believed it until I saw it."

Stoick was silent, not trying to dig deeper into the conversation about if his son, indeed, had befriended the beast.

There would be time to hear Hiccup's version, to know why he betrayed his people and why he had broken his father's heart.

Stoick was so lost in thought he had forgotten he wanted to question his friend about the situation.

It did not matter at this point. For now, he wanted to use the current moment of privacy to just be alone with his thoughts and emotions.

"Ya an' I both know that Hiccup's goin' t' die," Gobber said gently, hostility no longer in his voice now that he noticed Stoick's pain.

Gobber's rational words whispered to Stoick that this was the course of action the leader had to take. The words, however, felt like burning-hot knifes piercing through the father's heart.

He was tired, so very tired.

His hand seized the helmet from his head, yet his face still remained covered in shadows. The helmet appeared small in the leader's hand, almost completely hidden from view, as Stoick squeezed it to his chest like a precious child.

Gobber saw how the enormous fingers smoothed the helmet's metal surface, the last remnant of Stoick's now lost family. First his wife, now his son.

"Leave me, Gobber," the Chieftain finally spoke quietly, with an exhausted, pained voice, his eyes never leaving the helmet," Leave me

before my world falls completely to pieces."

* * *

The preparations were almost complete. The small armada of _drakkars _wobbled on the ocean's surface, filled with weapons and catapults. The shields gracing their sides were empty and quiet. It would remain quiet until morning, when the decks would thud with those shields' owners' footfalls and warrior calls.

Gobber barely finished forging the last of the weapons to be taken on the mission. There was, of course, not enough time for him to prepare everything as thoroughly as he had wanted. Stoick's orders were adamant: they would leave tomorrow at dawn, even if all the equipment was not yet ready.

The dining hall was quiet, with only a few seats occupied. Every warrior who had a family preferred to spend his or her remaining time with them.

Almost every warrior.

"Best of evenings t' ya, Gobber," Spitelout greeted in a tone of voice that was superficially cheerful.

The dragon training teacher had a strong urge to retort with a sarcastic comment of his own, remarking on the "joyful evening atmosphere" or "the surprising amount of smiling faces in the Mead Hall".

"Evenin' Spite," he said, instead.

He took a long gulp of the mead as the dark-haired man took a seat on the bench across from him. Spitelout placed up a box on the table, followed by a mug full of mead-beverage.

"Fancy a game of _hnefatafl_ ?" Spitelout asked.

Gobber would have conjured a million excuses of why he couldn't take Spitelout up on the offer. However, the blacksmith knew he had been approached for a reason beyond a board game. It involved a conversation that could only be postponed, but never avoided.

"Of course," he said with a fake smile.

Visibly satisfied, Spitelout opened the box and poured out white and black pawns, quickly picking them up and placing them on the game board. Gobber did not help with it.

"Attack or defence?" The First commander asked casually over the now- prepared game.

"Defence," the one-armed man answered, nonchalantly.

The game began without any further interruption. The dragon-bone pawns slid on the board, both players concentrating on getting an advantage.

"How's yer arm?" Spitelout finally queried as he took out the first defending piece.

"Missin' fo' a few years now," Gobber said normally, the sarcasm clear for anyone who had a level of perception higher than that of a blunt and rusted axe.

That concluded Spitelout's attempt to start a conversation.

The blacksmith waited as the game continued. He wondered if the Chieftain's younger brother would take the hint and get down to his intended reason for being here.

After a brief peek at the gaming zone, Gobber made a quick move of a pawn and swiftly removed one of his opponent's pieces.

"Excellent move," Spitelout complimented, not seeming to notice the blacksmith's nonverbal hint to not go off on tangents.

Today's events weighed on Gobber with a nerve-wrenching dread, and the heaviness on his mind felt a weight comparable to the mass of the every weapon in the village combined.

There was one main reason for his heavy thoughts: Hiccup.

"Listen 'ere, Spitelout. I'm feelin' far too unwell t' indulge ya in some unnecessary conversation," Gobber looked dead straight at his game opponent. His face was now washed out of friendliness and usual openness to any social interactions," Let's just get to the point and talk 'bout what ya want with me. There is not much mead left in my cup, an' we all need t' rise early for battle preparations, don't we?"

Spitelout moved his pawn first before looking up to begin the conversation. His face was as unreadable, as always.

"I had hoped that th' game first would help t' relax th' atmosphere a bit. If I recall, we used t' play a lot back in better days," Spitelout spoke coolly.

Gobber frowned in a way which would make most grown men run away with fear.

"I –ah- _appreciate_ yer thoughtfulness about my mental state, bu' a game would not raise anybody's spirit, considerin' our current circumstances. Also, do ya remember just how long ago it was when we used to play this board game, Spite?" He asked, raising a sandy eyebrow.

The dark-haired man mused for a moment before answering," Quite some time ago. Ya had both yer hands back then."

"It was over eighteen years ago," Gobber stated dryly and massaged his temple in frustration, "So, let's just pretend we're sittin' around th' fire drinkin' after a battle, like we used t' - comrade t' comrade. Perhaps some visual aids will help ya t' get t' th' point faster," he said suggestively.

With his good hand, he slid the heavy, iron candle-stand loudly across the table to position it near the board," Her' is th' fire," he announced proudly, going back to his usual sarcastic approach. Gobber never considered himself a person who could be diplomatic for longer than a few words.

Spitelout was actually smiling feebly, his cheeks straining at forming an expression which did not appear often on his face.

"Remember, comrade, how ya used t' b' th' most seriously-natured man in th' village, Gobber?" Spitelout gazed at the flickering candle flame, his face now showing a lost nostalgia," Th' most feared warrior in th' archipelago. Gobber...th' Berserker," he spoke the name quietly and with respect.

The blacksmith felt a cold shiver on his back. It had been a long time since he had been called by that name.

Spitelout continued his reminiscing, " Ya took out whole squads of warriors by yerself, always with a mad grin on yer lips...so much glory, so much honour..."

"So much destruction and so much unnecessary death" Gobber ended the sentence darkly, his steel-blue eyes shining dangerously in the dimly-lit Hall.

"Do ya regret yer actions?" Spitelout asked, raising his eyebrow.

"No...," came the hushed response," I only wish that the younger Vikings would not hav' t' go down th' same path as I."

The black-haired Viking frowned in mild displeasure," Tha' woman changed ya, Gobber. Changed ya...an' then she abandoned ya."

Gobber closed his eyes and let out a quick breath to maintain his cool. This topic was one few dared to broach, and none to challenge.

Well, he had to add one more to the that small list, now. He decided to use the same words he used to explain when Stoick had brought up the same topic. His ginger-bearded Chieftain friend had happened to be more diplomatic about it and wait until both of them were drunk. The intoxication had given a false sense of security that neither of them would remember the discussion.

"_She_ left because she could not put up with a man who had problems involving thoughts of how to become somethin' else than a Viking after losing a limb or two. Th' Vikin' spirit ya seem t' admire so much gives extraordinary confidence t' an individual who is lucky to win or to be killed in glorious battle. But it's na' very good fo' copin' with failure, especially if th' individual has to go on livin' with life in spite of defeat and permanent injuries. Bein' a Vikin' is not the only thing ya can do with yer life. I learned tha' lesson t' late," Gobber spoke neutrally.

It was his fault and it was never easy to speak about it. After his maiming, he been at his lowest, both mentally and physically. Stripped of his warrior abilities, hurling idly into pointless despair and self-pity. Blacksmith work seemed the only useful thing he could offer anyone... until a certain young boy, as lost as he was, showed him that he could find a pleasure in little things, that Gobber could still care and love. Gobber might not have all his limbs, but he still had a heart, and this warrior's spirit which had spilled so much blood could also be gentle and directed toward teaching and guiding. Towards moulding a young mind.

His heart now stung in horrible pain as if squeezed by iron pincers, and he found himself laying his good hand on his yellow cotton shirt, just right where his heart would be. He had never felt such a penetrating feeling of sorrow before.

"Ya all right?" He heard Spitelout asking.

If Gobber was feeling this pained by today's events, how much worse it had to be for Stoick!

"What 'bout ya?" Gobber asked in a low, hoarse voice," We used t' talk around th' fire fo' a reason. We were friends an', like me, ya were not th' same person ya ar' now. Where is th' brash, bu' well-disposed an' supportive man? The unchangeable optimist? Th' fearsome warrior with a kind heart?"

"Quite similar qualities t' somebody I know," Spitelout said, folding his fingers beneath his chin.

"Oh, bu' those similarities don't go too far," the blacksmith retorted," Tha' _somebody_ did not fall in love with a woman he saw only once, as ya did, and then vowed to find her. _Tha' somebody_ did not take a couple of warrior-friends and sail t' find 'er, returnin' two months later with a beautiful wife. She was not from any prominent family or held any significant position in th' village," Gobber recalled the past events as if he did not believe what he was saying," Yet, her' it happened, despite all th' opposition an' voices of contempt, and, ya took fo' a wife a woman ya fell in love in."

Gobber dropped the impersonal tone," With time, ya've earned people's respect. Remember how passionate and brave ya had t' be t' follow yer heart?" he asked, never expecting an answer. His hopes were rewarded, as he, indeed, received none.

Gobber gulped some more of the gold-coloured alcohol and continued his memories.

"Then yer became...all of _this_," he gestured to the grim, solemn, steel-faced man in front of him," What was th' reason? A man who had gained so many wonderful things for himself: victory, glory, pride, a fine woman and a fine son? Why would ya would reject yer feelings fo' them an' act as they never existed?"

Spitelout pondered for a moment, brushing the weeks-old beard stubble on his jaws with thick, hard fingers," I hav' heard those accusations many times before. I might be seen as...cold, but it is one of th' things a Chief's second-in-command must give up t' do his duties properly," he explained shortly, offering a helpful pseudo-smile.

He did not get into any more details or fully answer Gobber's question that still hung in the air.

Stoick's blond-haired best friend occupied himself with mead consumption, deciding he had enough of the chit-chat. He still wanted to know the reason for Spitelout's approaching him in the first place.

It was getting late.

"My brother talked t' me 'bout th' future of th' village," Spitelout spoke more quietly, the almost deserted Hall encouraging for a long, evening talk.

Gobber closed his eyes and focused on listening, his mind ever-attentive

" This Dragon nest excursion will be Stoick's last one before he will..uh...retire, giving me th' leadership an' entrusting me fully with th' future of Berk," Spitelout announced and paused, probably expecting Gobber to have a dramatic reaction to the news he had just heard.

Instead, the one-handed men remained calm, his countenance stoic and eyelids shut.

Spitelout, however, continued talking, his voice raising with excitement, "As the future leader, I'll require talented people by my side. I want ya th' b' one of these people an' help me lead t' th' village t' a brighter future!"

Gobber opened his steel-blue eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Spite," he started familiarly, hiding how psychically exhausted he was and how important it was for him to voice his next thoughts" I admire yer unyielding attention to th' village's well-being an' yer desire t' secure it. But fo' successful leaden', ya would need yer subjects' trust," he spoke sedately.

He raised his hand, stopping Spitelout from trying to further his point of view. Gobber felt the discussion now ended, and he was now merely speaking his mind, something he should have done a long time before.

"Ya hav' separated yerself from yer people, Spitelout...not physically, but emotionally. We ar' but simple warriors, an' we enjoy little things. Like having our second in command visiting a family after a funeral t' give his condolences, or him joining th' festivities an' getting dead-drunk with th' common folk. Not staying aloof and apart from us.

"However, _that's_ not what' troubles me th' most. Ye do na' see us as people but as lifeless pawns, just like in this game ya asked me to play tonight."

Gobber gestured at the _Hnefatafl_ and took one of the pawn-figures between his fingers," We obey every order as soldiers should d'. However...tell me, my leader, our second-in-command, ar' we just only pieces of expendable flesh in yer game fo' dominance? How can we follow yer guidance, if ya never show us ya care 'bout what's worth fightin' for?" Gobber queried, rolling the pawn in his palm with his thumb," I do not know who ya are anymore, an' I'll never follow yer example in repelling yer emotions from yer life because, beneath tha' impassive mask_ anythin'_ can lurk.

"An' I'm scared of followin' someone whose motives I do not understand," Gobber spoke naturally, without a shadow of shame or reservation," Showing what yer heart holds is not a sign of weakness. It does not make ya strange or inferior. Inability t' wield weapons or unwillingness to kill without mercy should not seclude a person from th' others. Sometimes, it's this very uniqueness an' kindness which can change a life fo' th' better and bring more honour to a tribe. Honour, dignity an' bravery is not limited t' th' size of yer body!

"Those who throw out their feelings, throw away their humanity! I will not-!"

_Crack!_

Gobber halted the stream of words abruptly. He had gotten mad. He really _had_ gotten angry!

He opened his trembling palm with a now-broken piece in it.

He had said too much, he had spoken about himself to the wrong person. The source of his bitter feelings was the guilt eating him slowly inside.

He had not been there for Hiccup. He had failed to save him, to guide him. It was his fault!

_And I had seen the signs that something was up with Hiccup. But I did not help him when I should have!_

Gobber put down the broken pieces of wood and, without any explanation he excused himself, limping into the night.

Spitelout peered evenly at the destroyed pawn before picking it up and smiling with an honest, triumphant smile.

* * *

The time flowed for Hiccup in the clanging beats of the short chain entrapping his legs. The steel bracers on his lower calf dug into his skin, effectively hobbling him. He could not run with the device, and he could not get it off by himself. Worse still, it had the rune for TRAITOR engraved on every chain-link. This was an outlaw's chain, and those runes would spell Hiccup's death sentence anywhere outside Berk. If he left the island, he would be a tasty morsel for swords or arrows belonging to law-keepers- or, more likely, for law-keepers-who-wanted-to-earn-some-money-off-the-escapee. More commonly known as bounty hunters.

Hiccup did not think of running away. His keen mind, which could instantaneously solve most of the problems he encountered, was now silent.

He could still go anywhere on the island. This chain allowed him some movement, and yet he was using his remaining moments of freedom before his final judgement to stand in the middle of the road leading to the harbour. To be honest, he _had_ spent a good deal of the night wandering the island until he finally gave up and just waited in the mist on this road.

He stood there before the dawn came and saw how the mist rose with the awakened sun. The milky vapour closed around him, making him feel like he was in a cramped room.

His clothes, torn from the struggle with the Nightmare had become even more ragged from a night of wandering aimlessly through rugged forest, often stumbling and falling from the impeding chain. Now scratched, muddy, ragged, he had given up the senseless wandering. He simply waited for his fate, his stare empty, his spirit broken.

Faceless people, dark silhouettes, passed him wordlessly to disappear shortly in the mist. Hinted by something inside him, Hiccup lifted his head and surveyed the unknown mists before him. A gigantic shape emerged from the white mass, bigger than anything, bigger than life.

Hiccup clung to the insane hope that he might still change things, to have his last chance to talk to his father, to shout his disagreement, to point out flaws in his logic and stubborn pride. To warn him of the perilous danger ahead.

The boy's posture slouched as he trembled.

He had the courage, he had the power of inspiring others, he was not the same human that he was before. He could do anything. He_ could _face his father, not shiver before his penetrating eyes which shouted disgrace at him.

He could challenge the unknown, fight the possibilities, force the impossible to happen, all he had to do to open his mouth and talk.

He had changed!

_Right?_

The enormous figure passed the youth's static body, disappearing from the view, along with Hiccup's hopes.

"Coward," Hiccup hissed, clenching his teeth in helpless anger, unshed tears burning in his eyes.

The mist swirled, Hiccup slumped his head and shoulders, and the soon the chain clanged, measuring the time again.

* * *

It was hauntingly quiet. The village was virtually deserted. Most of the people who were able to lift a weapon and had a craving for the bloody, action-packed adventure were gone.

That left only a handful of people too old, young or broken to enjoy the excursion.

And one traitor.

In most households, the topic of the upcoming events was still hovering around the lunch table. A few households were the exception to the rule, not because of the lack of time, but because of a collective decision not to mention the subject.

Like Astrid's family.

Astrid bandaged her fingers with a protective wraps sitting at her home's kitchen table. She had decided to go practice her weapons skills after the meal.

There were reasons why her house did not discuss the future of the island or the Chieftain's son. And, as usual, the reasons differed for each individual.

Astrid peered carefully through the blonde wisps concealing her face at her mother. The woman moved smartly around the hearth, preparing another heart-warming lunch. Though she had only one fully-working hand, Astrid's mother was an excellent cook.

Much better than Astrid, as the shield-maiden in training could not master the skill of preparing food. Out of everything she had tried, her attempts in mastering the kitchen floor usually ended in disaster. Her mother called it "cute" and found it amusing that Astrid actually had something she was completely bad at.

Astrid found that annoying. She clenched her bandage-covered palm into a fist, checking absently if the fabric was not too tight, yet still keeping her mother in view.

One of the reasons why nobody talked about the Dragon Nest invasion was not to hurt the feelings of the housemistress.

Saldis never said anything or showed in any way that she wanted to join the invading party. Not once did she scowl or change her voice to show her true feelings. Astrid hated making others concerned about her; it was something she had in common with her mother.

Saldis wanted to go and fight, but she had chosen to stay. She was no Gobber when it came to fighting with a handicap, and there were two things in her world she loved more than battle: her husband and her daughter.

Astrid understood that, a part of her would have done the same in this situation, and that she had to learn to accept that there were things she could not accomplish. And there were deeper reasons for everything- she had learned that insight from a life-threatening bronco ride on a Night Fury.

For the young female warrior, before that event, there had never been a need to ask seemingly unnecessary questions. There had been no need to seek for motives, to probe the truthfulness of rules and try to understand others. Their society was rigid and harmonious in its stillness. Values and beliefs did not change because everyone agreed they had always worked in the past.

Hiccup had made her open her eyes and question things, especially herself. She would not let her ambition and pride guide her blindly as she had been doing. However, that would not mean that she would stay back when others were in danger.

But _how_ could she help?She had no idea. She needed assistance and strategic planning and, for that, she had to find Hiccup.

"What's wrong?"

Astrid froze in surprise as she leaned down by her chair to grasp the belt with the usual training weapon assortment:, axe, sword and a long stick.

"N-nothing," she stuttered, answering her mother.

"I can see from tha' frown on yer face whenever there's somethin' worryin' ya," Saldis said casually, stirring the stew in the pot and then tasting it," More salt," she muttered to herself and proceeded to sift in a pinch from the precious clay container on the spice shelf.

Unsure if she was excused or had to give a further explanation, Astrid smiled sheepishly.

"It's really nothing, please don't bother about it," she said quickly.

As the first part of her reply, Saldis peered at her with a kind of stare reserved for a parent who is letting her child know that she could see through the mask and all lies in that moment were futile and just needlessly stretched the conversation.

"I think it's time we talked 'bout th' results of th' dragon trainin'," Saldis stated evenly, taking a seat from the table and casually placing it by her daughter.

"What of it?" Astrid queried, feeling nervous and hot in the face from the shame. She had avoided the topic, and her parents had not seemed interested in pursuing the matter.

"Exactly, what of it?" Saldis asked with a gentle smile on her beautiful face.

The gold-haired youth could not leave, and she did not want to conjure an excuse to hide the truth.

She had avoided the truth for far too long, and a Hofferson did not run away from anything- especially the truth.

"I'm sorry...," Astrid muttered after a moment of silence.

"Fo' what?" Saldis asked, prodding the topic.

Should Astrid have apologised? Never before had she been faced with a failure of such proportions, and she was at a loss to know how to deal with it in the face of the person who had been her motivation for dragon training in the first place.

There were so many things she had to think about: her decision to be a perfect warrior, to try and be perfect, the dragons, feelings for a certain youth, and a million other things whirling in her mind.

She looked at her mother; perhaps for the first time in her memory, she saw Saldis as she _really was_, not as Astrid's imagination and wishes portrayed her.

The new perspectives Hiccup and his dragon had shown her made Astrid see things she had never before considered. Her mother might not have wanted her to apologise for not winning the competition. However, there were many things Astrid felt she had to voice.

She took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry for making you worry about me so much," Astrid started with a gentle smile.

Saldis did not expect such an answer, clearly caught off-guard and did not blink for a moment. If not for the circumstances, Astrid would have laughed at the comical expression.

"And, I'm sorry for following a foolish dream. Mom, I wanted to win to make life better for you. I thought that if I trained and became the best, I would win Citizen Rights for our family. I saw how unhappy Dad was with being treated differently," she said, looking at the floor.

She heard her mother gasping, and she felt her body tense. For the first time, Astrid was being completely honest. What she just said was the truth. However, there was another reason.

"Mom... are you... happy with me?" Astrid said those words with difficulty, blushing from how childish they must have sounded.

Saldis, again, was not ready for such words. She didn't gasp this time, rather she answered quickly, "Of-of course, but why-?"

"I heard how you sometimes cried at night, unable to fight properly anymore. I thought..I thought that if I was the best, it would make you feel better... happy," Astrid explained lamely, for the very first time stating her motives aloud.

It was better to leave the past behind, make amends, for the future now seemed to be a very uncertain one for Berk.

"Of course, I'm happy with ya! Yer my only child, an' ya've never, never done anythin' t' make me look at ya with disappointment. I would've never guessed our well-being means so much t' ya," Saldis said with disbelief.

Those words seemed to open a path that had been closed. Mother and daughter now shared a longer talk, conversing freely, letting the words flow without restrictions. It was refreshing for both of them.

It felt right. Astrid now knew she was ready to do something which would make her join Hiccup as a traitor, and she knew already that she would not regret her decision.

But, for now, she was glad she could smile and laugh together with one of the people she loved most in the world. It was mid-afternoon when everything was settled, and Astrid excused herself to start her training.

She would have a similar conversation with her father, after he came back from his stonemasonry work.

As soon as she stepped out of her house at the long-used path leading to the forest, her face hardened.

She _woul_d find Hiccup and talk to him, know his plan and follow his leadership!

With ease, she sprinted between the trees, weapons clanging reassuringly on her back as she let herself ponder.

How did Hiccup do it? How had he managed to get through the training with the knowledge about the dragons? And all in spite of his weak body and lack of soldier's training!

He had to have endured an ideology and mind-set that brought him pain and frustration as he learned the truth about dragons. She had known the truth only for a day, and already she had trouble thinking of letting things stay the way they were, especially now that the warriors had left to find the dragon island.

All of those warriors would die if someone did not step in and stop this attack!

Hiccup surely thought the same...

Astrid came to a stop after a few steps, looking at the ground.

Would Hiccup have any resolve left in him after everything that had happened to him? Being marked as a traitor. Having his dragon... no... his _truest friend_ taken away from him, being hated by his father and villagers alike. Now he waited, abandoned to the elements and hobbled with chains, for the inevitable execution.

What Hiccup needed was for someone to assure him that he was not alone, that there were still people supporting him and ready to follow any crazy plan he might conjure. She had not considered it, but now it seemed obvious. She would win over the other teens; she would talk to them and sway them to Hiccup's allegiance. She could do what Hiccup would be unable to without being seen as a target practice by bounty hunters.

She resumed her dash, heading for the only place she could think of to find the boy.

She found the cove, expecting to find him there. To her disappointment, he was nowhere to be seen. There were the remains of the small campfire by the tall rock. He had been here and probably left in the morning.

Where was he now?

The rest of her day remained unproductive in finding Hiccup. It seemed as if he had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Or did not want to be found.

Astrid bit her lip nervously, throat dry from calling his name all day in the woods, body sweat-coated from a day of hectic running.

It was hopeless. Hiccup was gone and she had no idea where to search. Honestly, she had almost no idea about the motives or hiding places of this inconspicuous boy, nothing about his habits.

Once this madness was finished - if any of them still lived - she promised to change this. She would pay more attention to those around her.

For now, the situation called for one question.

"Hiccup, where are you?" She asked desperately, looking at the orange-shaded sky.

* * *

The night and morning passed quietly. Even the Mead Hall, normally bursting with laughter or at least polite yelling, was quiet. The remaining Vikings who happened to stumble into the Hall ate in silence. It was as unnatural as the number of people sitting by the tables, only few of them were taken.

The most- populated one was the large bench at the back side of the space occupied by a small group of teenagers, the same group which passed the Dragon Training not so long ago. Despite the reticent atmosphere, they were talking to each other in frantic whispers.

"I'm telling you, Hiccup was bewitched!" Tuffnut said in a definitive tone, accenting his argument with a thump of his mead-filled mug against the tabletop.

Ruffnut snorted, not bothering to face her brother, "You don't even know how to spell that word," she said snidely.

"Sure I know!" He countered and started to spell the word aloud. He stopped after the first letter, took a dagger from of his boot-top and started carving in the wood, muttering to himself.

"I heard somebody shot him in the woods yesterday...mistook him for game," Snotlout said quietly, looking into nothing in particular.

"No, he was not," Fishlegs, said calmly but strongly, making his friends look at him.

Ruffnut's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked at him and then at the book Fishlegs held on his lap. "How do you know that?" she asked.

"My father found this book this morning, leaning against our house's front door. It's one I lent Hiccup so he could check on... something," he muttered, staring at the front cover with Berk's coat of arms on it.

"So, he is still out there...," Ruffnut muttered with a sigh of relief.

She then caught a glimpse of Snotlout looking intently at the group, drinking in every word of their conversation.

"Yeah," Fishlegs agreed and looked at her," Do you think we should-?"

"Ha! I got it! Who's an idiot now?" Tuffnut suddenly exclaimed, both hands raised in victory from the rune covered table.

Ruffnut took one swift glance at the carvings. She snorted once more. As much as she wanted to point out her sibling's mistakes, she did not want to risk a fight with him right now. Fishlegs had started a topic which had been bothering her since yesterday, and she had a strong feeling that she was not the only one who wanted to have some questions answered.

"What do you think we should do?" She asked the tall, sturdy teen, neutrally taking a gulp from her mug.

"We should... never mind," Fishlegs spoke meekly, looking at his aged tome again.

"I think we should talk," said a new voice from nearby.

Everybody looked around quickly and saw Astrid, standing by the table with a bowl of food in her hand. She appeared tired, as though she had not slept well last night.

"I think so, as well," Ruffnut supplied, crossing hands on her chest with a smirk.

"I concur!" Fishlegs said excitedly, closing the book.

Tuffnut stared from one of his group mates to another," Why do I feel like I'm missing something?" he asked.

"Let's go talk outside," Astrid offered, sitting down. She raised her hand as youths started to rush to their feet to follow her instruction," Right after I have something to eat, please," she added sheepishly.

While the proud shield-maiden quickly finished her meal, Snotlout tried some small-talk with her. Fishlegs kept a polite silence and the twins bickered pleasantly as Ruffnut finally showed the mistake in her brother's spelling. Everything was as natural as it could be, considering one person was missing from the group and a sense of dread filled the air.

* * *

"We need to find Hiccup," Astrid said simply once they had gathered outside. She had expected anything from astonishment to anger.

The only one who displayed pure surprise was Tuffnut. Ruffnut and Fishlegs were smiling with acceptance, and Snotlout had a blank expression for a change.

Her plan was simple: convince the others of her firm and well-based opinion that the dragons they had been killing for the previous 300 years were, in reality, quite intelligent and noble-hearted. One of them even possessed a strong sense of honour and a snarky sense of humour. And that did not even take into account the gigantic beast in the Dragon Nest which seemed to be their ruler.

Astrid was not good with scheming, and she was not a seasoned diplomat. She would tell them everything she experienced over the past few days. She trusted herself that she could trust her friends. And so she told them what she knew.

Her revelations left the group in a much more visible state of bewilderment. Except for one of them.

"Now, _that _makes sense!" Fishlegs announced happily to Tuffnut's dismay.

"What, what?" he queried, lost for words. It was apparent he needed more than a few moments to absorb this new information.

"Everything!" The bulky ship-maker explained helpfully," I noticed a few things off with Hiccup as we trained... his behaviour, his concern for the dragons, his sudden interest in them beyond how to kill them... even how he talked to us about the possibility that dragons might be more intelligent than we realise."

"I have nothing to add," Ruffnut croaked with a sly grin.

"Wait-wait here. Since when did you believe in this? This is some sort of a joke, it must be!" Tuffnut said, looking around for support. He received none," Guys... seriously?" he uttered with disbelief.

"I believe Astrid. There is no reason for her to lie to us or deceive. I'm in!" Fishlegs made it official and took a step forward.

"The big guy said it all again. Count me in as well," Ruffnut declared.

"Snotlout?" Astrid asked gently, trying to look confident as she folded her arms to conceal her nervousness. If any of her group mates went and told the adult Vikings about it, it would bring problems not only for her, but for these would-be allies. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to suffer because of her.

Snotlout eyed her deeply, visibly pondering what he wanted to say. His mind spoke to him about his father and duties to the village and treating dragons as the ultimate enemy. He knew he should tell somebody about Astrid's information. It was his duty.

However, Astrid's eyes were soft, almost pleading.

Finally, he sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "All right, for you, babe, anything!" he said boastfully, but with less enthusiasm than usual.

Now everyone turned to the last, undecided, member of their conspiratorial circle.

Tuffnut, seeing the inevitable, groaned, "Whatever. I am in, too." His lips curled into a grin." Besides, I've always wanted to save the day...not that I haven't done it before. Tuffnut the Hero!" He immersed himself inside his fantasy as a heroic figure with very original name.

"Speaking of which," Ruffnut took the topic quickly, "How exactly are we going to stop the others from fighting that overgrown overlord-lizard?" Her question was directed at Astrid with a raised brow.

Astrid harrumphed and made a curled fist, creating a pregnant pause for the upcoming awkward revelation. Instead of making the atmosphere more relaxed, she succeeded in creating even more potent dramatic effect.

She took a deliberate, deep breath.

"We will leave that to Hiccup," she said as naturally as possible.

Tuffnut played his role of the sceptical mob member well. He would have been more theatrical about it, if not for his sister's elbow being plunged firmly into his ribs.

"Sounds simple," Ruffnut summarised while her male counterpart curled in pain by her side.

"Yes...that is correct," Astrid said in surprised agreement. She had expected more resistance. Much more.

There was an awkward silence after that, and the gold-haired female warrior smiled clumsily.

"Right! So we'd better start now. I'm on my way!" she said lamely," Thank you, everyone!" She did not forget to shout before she left running into the direction of the forest.

"Shouldn't we think of a plan without Hiccup?" Snotlout asked right after Astrid left.

With a few suspicious glares he elaborated," You know, if we can't find him in time. From what my dad told me, the journey to Heinleim's Gate takes around two days of constant sailing. Already one day's passed since they left, so..."

"Have anything in mind?" Tuffnut asked his close friend, painfully standing straight up again.

"Not really, but plans with Hiccup in them have generally blown up, most of the time," Snotlout explained. Everybody cringed at the bad, involuntary pun.

Ruffnut locked her hands behind her head and looked at the sky, thinking. Her brother did the same with a hand on his chin. Fishlegs looked nervously around, apparently having an idea. He had learned through the dragon survival course, however, to restrain his urge to blabber.

"If I may...," he started shyly.

"Shoot, big guy," Ruffnut encouraged with a grin.

The hefty teen took a deep breath," Snotlout's assumption concerning travel to the Nest are correct. It takes around two days, depending on wind and ocean conditions."

Tuffnut opened his mouth to interrupt, but Fishlegs was faster to answer the unspoken question. "That recent trip took a few weeks because the troops had to stop at one of the nearby islands and rebuild part of the remaining ship. About this mission... from Astrid's information we can clearly say that they do not have a chance of winning the battle. We can't even say if they will be able to find the Nest," he sighed. "And it's too late to follow them using the remaining ship in the harbour," he finished, with resignation.

"But?" Ruffnut encouraged hoarsely, noticing a thought left hanging.

"But we need Hiccup if we want to have any hope of arriving in time," Fishlegs said, glancing at her. Ruffnut understood the plan immediately and smiled with satisfaction.

"Yeap, I think that is also what Astrid indicated," she summed up.

"I still don't follow it," Tuffnut countered.

Fishlegs perked up, as he usually did when he felt he could explain something. "We can't follow the search party by sea as it would be futile, but there _is_ one very fast, efficient means of transportation, as Hiccup has demonstrated..." He made full of tension pause, trembling from excitement.

With nobody about to finish the sentence he put hands over his head in eager joy. "_Dragons!_" he squealed in a high-pitched voice," **We're going to ride dragons**!"

Snotlout and Tuffnut's jaws hung loose.

Ruffnut rolled her eyes.

"All right, short story: we need Hiccup to show us how to do it. Got it, blockheads?" she sneered at the direction of two oblivious boys.

"Ooohhhh," Tuffnut and Snotlout drawled in unison.

"Nice, so what are you still doing here? Buzz off and do your part to find the guy!" she shouted impatiently.

Grumbling, the newly designated dragon-tamer search party dispatched with their new mission.

"I wonder why Astrid didn't mention this part of the plan," Fishlegs mused calmly aloud, his fanboy's energy now released.

"Exactly, who does she think we are? Idiots who can't figure anything out for ourselves?" Ruffnut answered with a dignified huff.

* * *

The search was unsuccessful. After a whole day of wandering through the woods and meadows, or in his case, through Berk's empty streets, Snotlout returned to his home after dark, only to head quickly into the basement and start training.

There was no need for such extensive exercise; however, it calmed his nerves. Lately he had been dealing with emotions he had not experienced for a very long time: anxiety mixed with a growing sense of nervousness.

He was terrified by the thought of him and his cohorts riding the dragons on a mission which would, with high probability, bring them to their deaths. If they somehow managed to live, the mission would result in them losing their status as Berk citizens. And then there was the real root of the problem: like every other Viking, he longed for the prospect of dying in battle one day, although he could not help but to be scared of a certain blue-scaled, quill-tailed dragon.

"_Did you see the light, Snotty?" _Hiccup had asked with a maniacal grin, as if he knew it would be enough to shatter the illusion Snotlout was living with.

Snotlout could not figure things out easily by himself. However, his normally inactive brain was already too hyper with the inner turmoil. He sensed, more than he understood, that something these days was very, very wrong.

His faithful sword flashed in the air in swift arcs, the reddish blade swooshing with every rapid turn and swing. His practise was going smoothly and, though his mind felt removed from the task, his body remembered the sequences perfectly. He finished another series and stopped his movement, barely covered in perspiration and far from out of breath.

The double edged weapon shook in his hand.

He was scared, terrified of this unknown and inexplicable development. If only he were smarter, he would be able to figure out another way which would not involve riding dragons!

The Nadder had defeated him, soundly and completely overwhelming him with movements he would never associate with a scaled beast. It was a topic the teens never mentioned, even though it was obvious that the Nadder's moves had been something unnatural, extraordinary.

They had instead moved forward with the training, dismissing it, sweeping the Nadder's strange behaviour away to the back of their minds. After all, the idea of a dragon being so powerful was insane. At least he tried to tell himself that.

But there was one person in their group who probably could explain the Nadder's behaviour.

Hiccup! He knew so much about... everything! Could he explain more about these strange events? Provided they were able to find him before things really got insane in Berk?

Snotlout groaned with frustration. His head started to throb menacingly. He cursed, massaging his temple. To his enormous annoyance, the pain increased as his mind recalled that Nadder fight. He remembered how those white wisps of light had passed through him, how pleasant and peaceful the sensation had been. Peaceful back then; now his breathing was ragged, the sweat forming on his body in droplets.

He had visited the healer after the Nadder fight. His shoulder had been _sprained _after the dragon's lower jaw had slammed against his back. The herbalist had recommended a simple cold compress and not to use the hand for the next few days. Snotlout cared a great deal about his body and was not happy about the news, although he had yielded to the advice.

Amazingly, the injury healed overnight. Not only the shoulder, but all the scrapes and bruises as well.

He realized he now felt rooted to the ground, unable to command a muscle. No sane person could accept all this crazy stuff with a smile and a request for more. A sane person with a strong mind would try to justify, ignore, rationalise and when finally faced with the truth...

"_Only a strong mind can overcome fear. You should not destroy it, but learn how to use it to add to your strength,"_ his father's voice boomed one of his lessons.

Snotlout ground his teeth, his memory still seeing the white light penetrating him. He was strong, he was determined, and he would prove it!

He concentrated on his practice target. It was a lone, massive tree trunk braced against the wall. He had swathed it in thick, tough ropes to make cutting into the wood harder.

Now, he focused, imagining it as an enemy.

The first step took more energy than anything he had ever done in his life, but then he leaped, fast as a thought, swinging his sword outward to strike at the trunk.

The next thing he knew, his bare feet were skidding through the training room sand as he decelerated from his attack.

Why was he slowing down? He hadn't felt the sword hit the target, yet now he was past it! Had he missed the entire attack? Impossible! He looked back.

As if answering his mental questions, the upper part of the wooden trunk slowly inclined towards the frozen warrior. Snotlout agilely jumped back. The severed stump crashed with a powerful thud.

Snotlout's self-satisfied laugh was very short lived. The cut was clean, smooth and _charred_. The wood was marked with bright, yellow glowing sparks with charred blackness beneath.

Stunned, he slowly looked at the sword he still held outstretched. The handle was softly vibrating and when he saw the blade...

"What the-!" He shouted and let go of the weapon.

He found himself crawling backwards until his back hit the wall. He hunched into a defensive position, as his abandoned sword now seeming like a poisonous snake ready to attack. It lay in the sand, without any unusual qualities about it, yet the blackened stump testified otherwise. The smell of lighting-struck wood now started to fill the air.

Getting to his feet, he jumped up the steps and jolted out of the door, heading towards his room.

Something was very, very wrong.

* * *

The ephemeral spark of energy should not have been felt by a comatose mind. At least, in theory.

He inhaled deeply, at the same time quickening his heartbeat and increasing his body temperature. The sensation of the blood flowing faster tingled the skin beneath his scales.

He opened his eyes, not seeing anything. Eyesight always returned last.

Somebody else was aware of his awakening.

The Nadder roused as the sense of feeling returned. It politely informed him about his cramped wing. He would have gladly rolled to the other side or risen to his feet if he could. At least the muscle weakness would pass after a while.

He needed to distract himself from this uncomfortable position and the pounding headache that resulted from his increased blood pressure.

He did not start the distracting, though.

**_You should keep resting_**, a sensuous and yet motherly female voice sounded in his mind. She was obviously displeased.

The Nadder snorted carefully, not wanting to abuse his lungs after the awakening.

**_You worry too much, Seven_**, the blue-scaled dragon sent back and decided to pursue the first topic which stirred his curiosity**_ ,__How was your talk with Toothless?_**

**_Why did you think I would try to contact him?_** Seven replied rhetorically.

The dragon growled, carefully and very quietly. **_As much as I enjoy your desire to humour yourself, I still can smell his plasma discharge. I also know you would never have let him leave without learning more about him. He is one of those you have helped... indirectly but always_**, the Nadder clarified, more elaborately than he needed to.

The answer did not come immediately.

**_What do you wish to know?_** Seven finally queried with a soothing, alto voice.

**_His mental state. How bad is it?_**

**_My, my! Such a pessimist_**, Seven commented dryly.

**_Enough of the word games, Keeper! Information...please_**, the Nadder added with reluctance, instantly killing the spawning sense of anger.

**_And cranky, to boot_**! She sighed audibly for an effect, but it had none on the Nadder.

**_Toothless appears stable. I could not asses the extensiveness of the brain damage he inflicted upon himself without proper training. I suspect that the merging with Hiccup helped him to regain mental control, yet-, _**Seven stopped, and the Nadder waited patiently,**_ - he needs further stabilisation from a Master, and proper brain damage evaluation._**

She paused and then added, **_I can't believe he did all that to himself and is still able to function and have a decent Tagma control-_**

**_His mental state, if you will_**, the Nadder reminded.

**_He is surprisingly intelligent and clever. He is emotionally impulsive and hides his fears behind a facade of poorly executed smugness_**, **_He is also obsessed with_**_-_, Seven never finished.

**_- Vengeance_**, the azure coloured dragon supplied easily.

**_Yes, he has formed his whole existence around it. It makes me wonder what will become of him when the object of his hatred disappears. If only he had waited another cycle, IT would have died on its own. That scenario would have made everything so much easier_**, Seven fumed lightly.

**_You seem to find it as amusing as I do, Seven. Hiccup stirred up events slightly, and we must adapt_**, the Nadder explained whilst rolling himself over to his other side.

**_We? I cannot alter anything directly. You've made this all your game... and one over which you are losing control. Hiccup did not run away from Berk with Toothless, as you had predicted. Instead, Toothless was captured and is now strapped to that floating wooden plank these Vikings dare to call "_a ship"_ towards his doom_**, Seven spoke mockingly.**_ And what else? Ah, you also happened to accidently Activate two unprepared humans and endanger the secrecy of my position here!_**

**_Do not flare up your anger, Keeper. The outcome is the same. Toothless _will_ have his revenge_**. **_I merely gave him the chance to Merge with a human, a step he had to take sooner or later._** **_Why did the Vikings not kill Toothless? _**The quill-shooting creature asked neutrally.

**_Sentimental reasons... you would not understand, and please do not let me explain to you the complexity of human father-son relationships. Be satisfied with the knowledge that Stoick did not deliver the death-blow to Toothless because Hiccup asked him not to_**, Seven mind-sent irritably.**_ Now the humans will use the drake to find the entrance to the Stronghold._**

**_What do you predict? You've had more time than I to analyse the information_**... **_and no useless statistics please_**, the Nadder thought helpfully.

**_It is likely Toothless will lead the humans to the Stronghold, and they will find it. It is certain that, without outside help, the human warriors will die. The most probable solution is for Hiccup to use the dragons in the Kill Ring to follow the expedition and join it at this juncture of the battle. However, given his current mental state, it is unlikely he will do so. I hope I haven't made it too complicated for you_**, Seven said with a slight jeer.

The Nadder felt relief**_. They will come. Hiccup and the others. I know this type of human-_**, The horned dragon projected his thought.

**_Of course you do. You met him once, and you didn't even try to kill, injure or chase him_**. **_How unlike you,_** Seven remarked with dripping sarcasm.

**_Hiccup will not give up. He will come_**, The Nadder stated, as though he had not been interrupted.

**_For fun, let us assume he will not come? _**Seven asked. **_You still have not answered why you let two other adolescent humans gain access to the Tagma manipulation! Humans might be ignorant, but even they will notice the change-! _**Seven's thought-sendings were heavily laced with chastisement.

**_Hiccup is more adept at it, already_**, the Nadder chimed in.

**_Stop interrupting me! _**Seven shouted angrily.**_ Hiccup has, at least, a small idea of what he is dealing with! Snotlout and Astrid have no knowledge about what to do or how to control it! And yet you involved them! I cannot direct them or train them. Are you going to take responsibility for them, now?_** Seven asked authoritatively.

**_No, Keeper. Must I remind you, I do not need to explain my reasoning to you, _**the Nadder answered coolly. Yet he knew he needed to provide an explanation to lower the stress of his ancient companion. She was so like a human sometimes!

He sighed, **_With their current ability, they would end up with a random burst of power, depending on their emotional state. The best scenario: they will be a bit stronger than a typical human and help the village prosper. The worst scenario: they will have a strong headache every day. After- and if- Toothless destroys IT, the humans will see the nonsense of the dragon war and will incorporate the dragons into their culture_**, The Nadder chirped in his mind.

Seven was furious, yet her voice was refined and gentle,**_ You are rattling the wrong nest, Darangur! Humans _always_ abuse new powers or weapons! Even if, by chance these Vikings don't, others will come to quell them or claim dragons for their own. It always happens like this! _That's_ why I am trying to protect these island humans_**, Seven sent telepathically.

**_You cannot protect them from what they are. Hiccup and Toothless can change their world. Things can be better than they used to be_**, the Nadder answered with a surprising mildness.

**_The circle will repeat itself. You are merely hastening the inevitable_**, Seven spoke before realising what she just sent. As hurtful as it was, that still was how she felt.

**_Yes, it is inevitable_**, the Nadder repeated, exploiting the weakness his companion showed,**_ And if there is something inevitable about humanity, it is that change and progress cannot be stopped. It is deeply rooted in them as their need to destroy and love. If not Hiccup, there would be others in the future who would do the same thing._**

With no words left to tell, they remained silent, waiting for the inevitable change.

* * *

"Damn it! Where _is_ Snotlout?" Tuffnut spat angrily for the fifth time as he tapped his leg impatiently. Considering all the obscenities Tuffnut knew, the other teens were grateful they had endure only the most polite of them.

Fishlegs and Astrid did not say anything, as they had not for the three other times Tuffnut had asked about whereabouts of his friend.

The atmosphere was stiff and tense. They were running out of time in which they could act.

"Let's just go there and ride the bloody dragons ourselves!" Tuffnut suddenly said. It got their attention since it was something different from his usual complaints about Snotlout.

That idea had already been circulating vividly in the other teens' heads. It seemed the male twin had finally gotten the same idea.

Better late than never.

Still, the question was open. What if they failed to find Hiccup before the end of the day? What if the expedition arrived at the island earlier than they expected? What if the expedition was attacked and never reached the island?

What if something fatal had happened to the relatively small, skinny youth, even while they searched for him?

"I don't know...," Fishlegs stirred the topic, looking expectantly at Astrid. She seemed a leader type and such important decisions should rest on her. She had had more than enough time to anticipate such options.

"We would try it only as an absolute last resort", Astrid said, "We don't know how to approach the dragons, and we all know how they usually react to humans..." she said, wanting the silence to speak for itself.

"With their teeth and claws! Oh, and scaled, flying daggers! And fire that can turn you into dust in a few moments!" Fishlegs was always there to give others the full spectrum of death options.

His comments were not welcomed with applause.

"You forgot about poisoning," Tuffnut muttered darkly, crossing his arms with a small shiver. The tiny scars on his back still reminded him of the encounter with the Zippleback.

"Oh, right. Thank you. Did you know that that dragon toxic can liquefy you from the inside? Change all your organs into a green sludge... or was it yellow sludge? I think it depends on what you last ate," Fishlegs mused in what was for him a pleasant monologue.

He was not aware of how Tuffnut's face became a more fearful shade of pale.

Whatever cheerful story Fishlegs wanted to summon next, he was disrupted by the arrival of a running Ruffnut.

"I found him!" She said with a smile plastered on her face, one that overrode her mild tiredness.

"Who?" Tuffnut asked in unison with Fishlegs, who was still distracted with his own oration.

"Where?" Astrid demanded at the same time.

"I need you to come with me!" The blonde potter grabbed her female warrior friend's hand and pulled her away. She shifted immediately into a trot," Wait here, guys! We'll be back soon!" she yelled, without stopping.

Astrid managed to pull herself free after a short pull.

"Lead the way," she said and ran after her guide.

* * *

"Oh, they found Hiccup," Tuffnut caught on, and then he charged forward. "I want to beat crap out of him for wasting so much time!" He announced, and felt something very heavy pressing his shoulder.

He felt like sitting all of a sudden.

"Slow down. I am sure Ruff had a very good reason for doing it," Fishlegs said calmly as his hand pushed the struggling Tuffnut down to the ground with embarrassing ease, " We should go and do something productive like-"

"Finding where Snotlout is!" Tuffnut shouted excitedly and launched himself towards the brown-haired boy's home.

"I was thinking of going home and packing something, but that could work too," Fishlegs thought out loud and ran after the pain-sensitive blonde. "Afterwards, I do want to stop by my house and get my hammer!" he decided with glee. It was surely getting interesting!

* * *

"All right, stop," Ruffnut outstretched her hand to the side.

"Why? We should get to him before he disappears again!" Astrid hissed quietly as if raising her voice would scare Hiccup away, wherever he was. She had been led, or rather pulled, to the area near the cliff that loomed high over the docks.

She tried to spot anything even remotely resembling the young dragon trainer.

She saw nothing.

Ruffnut rolled her eyes "He's there, stop panicking. Before we went into dragon training, he used to come to this place to feel sorry for himself. So now he's there... for mushy reasons, I guess," she added quickly.

"And how do you know about that?" Astrid asked with raised eyebrow.

"I just know, all right? No time to talk anyway! You need to go there and talk to him," Ruffnut sighed and looked to the side. "You really are the only one who can do it!"

Astrid had many questions about what her friend said and how she acted. She felt it was as important as convincing Hiccup to help them.

"Ruff... are you..." she said painfully in awful realisation. She did not want to hurt her friend...no, but she already had! Why now?

Yet, she had to hear the answer from her, just to be sure. It would be painful bu-

"Ouch!" Astrid yelled as Ruffnut snapped a thumb and index finger between Astrid's eyes.

"I've told you to stop furrowing your brow like that or you'll get wrinkles!" Ruffnut croaked with her usual smirk, as if she succeeded again in disarming a dangerous situation.

To her credit, it almost worked. Ruffnut waved her hand and ran back the way they had come. "I'll go help the male idiots. Good luck with Hiccup!"

Astrid stood there, placing a hand on the sore spot on her brow where Ruffnut had struck her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Ruffnut" she said quietly after the running twin. It seemed a proper thing to say, even though she did not feel she had anything to apologise for.

Astrid blew out her breath lightly. She had a more important problem to solve right now. It all would depend on how she approached Hiccup.

She thought for a few moments before groaning in frustration. She would know when she would see him, and she wanted to see him so badly.

_No pain, no gain,_ she thought encouragingly and walked to the wooden platform stretching from the cliff with a beautiful vista of the ocean.

She turned to the left... and there he was! Just as Ruffnut said he would be.

With a giant feeling of relief and a simple smile, she approached Hiccup, the creaking of the wood planking alerting him as to her presence.

He looked at her briefly and then turned away, continuing to stare at a particular spot on the horizon, his eyes glazed and dead to the world.

_Gods, he looks awful_, was the second thought in Astrid's mind. Right after: _He is all right!_

His now-tattered clothes were filthy, crusted with dried mud. His face, mostly concealed under knotted, greasy auburn hair, still revealed a few light scratches on his cheeks and dark skin under red-rimmed, dull-green eyes.

He did not look as if he had eaten, drunk or slept through the previous few days. Astrid found herself feeling angry at him for treating himself like that, for such strong self-hatred, for wallowing in self-pity instead of trying to solve the problem.

Yet, she now understood him and why he acted as he did. Tragic circumstances had pushed him into this ragged, defeated shell of his former self, and the only way she could help him was to break that shell and make him face reality.

She forced aside her irritation at his self hatred and strolled to his right side, towards the edge of the platform, standing clearly in his line of vision.

"Well,_ this_ is all a mess," she said with a short huff. She knew she had to talk and deal with it as a Viking would. She desperately needed to see emotions on Hiccup's face, for, as long as he was able to feel or care about something, he never truly would give up.

" I can't even think of how bad it must be for you. In one day, you've lost your father, your tribe and now...your best friend," she told him clearly, without the slightest tone of anger in her voice. She calmly stated facts and then turned her gaze on him.

She felt a slight sense of relief as Hiccup's fine-boned jaw was now clenched and his face hardened in constricted anger.

"Thanks for always looking on the bright side, in even my darkest moments," he said hoarsely. It was obvious irony, although Hiccup almost sounded as if he said it automatically, rather than out of any sense of emotion.

Astrid heard the self -hatred, but she also heard anger. Self-hatred was not good, but anger at the situation was. She had to make her friend see that not everything was over. She smiled wanly as she thought of the ironic comment the young dragon-tamer had just made.

He was cursing the worst of himself. Now it was time for her to make him see the best of himself.

"Hiccup...," she faltered, grabbing his attention, "Why didn't you kill the dragon when you first met him in the woods?"

She really_ was_ curious. It was the key to understanding the complex boy's uniqueness, an insight revealing why he was so much more than what showed on the surface. It was a quality which made him different from everybody else, more than a thin, snarking goofball who caused far too many explosions.

_Everything's going to be all right,_ she realised. She now felt this vibe whenever she was near him. This was Hiccup, the person who had a solution to every problem.

Hiccup's angry, yet sad, voice cut into her thoughts.

"Why didn't I kill the dragon? I don't know-I wouldn't...," he seemed to be distracted by a new thought, one he undoubtedly had been confronting since the whole situation had blown up in the Kill Ring, " Y-You're right. Why _didn't _I kill that dragon? I-it... it would have been so much easier...for everyone," he muttered to himself and the whole world.

"That's the point, Hiccup!" Astrid confirmed that statement by putting a hand on his shoulder as a show of support. She wanted this to be a bridge of understanding between them. The youth had to understand that there was no shame in showing mercy, that it was not a failing to have a weak body and a curious mind. What mattered was how you chose to live with and used the talents you had.

" The rest of us would have done _just_ _that_: killed the dragon for glory and for honour! We would have done it without a second thought, and nothing would ever change for the better...so, tell me: why didn't you kill him?" She asked, leaning closer, eyes wide.

Hiccup pushed her hand away and turned his back to her, hunching his shoulders in anger.

"I don't kn-I- I was weak! _I was stupid_! All right?" Hiccup gesticulated angrily," Why...why is this so important, all of a sudden?" He demanded helplessly.

Again, he was responding to the situation in his usual way. He was saying something ironic. Telling himself that he was stupid, that he should feel ashamed, that he was weak and different.

It pained the shield maiden to hear him speak like that. Especially because she now knew it was not true.

"_Because_, I want to remember what you'll say right now," Astrid spoke honestly, stepping closer.

He briefly turned to shoot a glance at her. The boy's green's eyes were wide now with frustration and angry acceptance of her words.

She guessed he had come to the conclusion he could not win this one by being sarcastic.

"I did not kill him...I did not kill Toothless, because I just couldn't," Hiccup started to say, eyes cast down and distant, reliving the memory," When he looked at me...I saw myself. I saw something more than a mindless, savage beast. He-he was afraid...just like I was."

Hiccup then gave a soft, ironic laugh laced with self -hatred," I am the first Viking in three hundred years not to kill a dragon...what a mess," he muttered, turning back to view the ocean, again in his self-imposed vigil.

Astrid absorbed the knowledge and smiled to herself.

"The first to ride one, though," she said nonchalantly.

Hiccup's back trembled and he turned his head back to glance at her his shoulder, his dirt-stained face shocked with new revelations about himself.

It was a good time to press the issue," I bet that dragon is very afraid right now," Astrid said in her straightforward, confident manner and looked at him with a cocked smile," Soooo... what are you going to _do_ about it?"

Hiccup shrugged indifferently at the challenge and turned back to face her.

"Ah, nothing much... probably something stupid," Hiccup said as his mouth twitched with mirth. A glint came back into his eyes.

"Good, but you've already done that," Astrid reminded him calmly.

The boyish face broke into a full grin," Well, then, probably something crazy!" He proclaimed and took a wide step forward.

It _would _have been wide, and Astrid probably would have said something if the outlaw-chain had not decided to remind them of its presence by causing the clumsy boy to trip and fall, face-forward.

His face would have been planted into the planking below if not for the timely grab of his shoulder.

"I really _was_ expecting that to happen," Hiccup said with as much dignity as he could as Astrid lifted him up effortlessly and threw him over her shoulder like a sack of oats.

" Wait! Wha-what are you doing?"

"You might say that _I_ expected that to happen as well," the feisty girl said with a sly smile," Now, stop talking and enjoy the ride!" She broke into a graceful sprint.

"Wait! Isn't it usually the guy who carries the girl?" Hiccup called down in surprise.

"You need to move with the times, , should we go to the blacksmith's first?" She asked as she ran towards the buildings. Hiccup thought for a moment.

"No...avoid the village as much as possible. We need to get to the Kill Ring," he said seriously.

Astrid looked up and to her side, catching a glimpse of Hiccup's scratched and muddy face. She smiled even more when she saw the shining, charismatic eyes that had motivated the teens during training. The faith she had put in Hiccup could not have been misplaced: everything was going to be all right.

"Can you just...uh- give me a lift to my house? No pun intended, of course. My flying harness is there under my bed," Hiccup said, mentally tallying what else he would need for this mission.

"You keep interesting things beneath your bed, Hiccup," Astrid teased, smiling to herself.

"You have no idea...," the scrawny youth said, not getting into details.

"One stealthy sprint to the Chieftain's house with hand luggage, coming right up!" The shield-maiden re-slung her shoulder accessory with gusto, and carried out her mission with a speed Hiccup could not have achieved even without any additional weight.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Astrid asked Hiccup as they looked at the caged door, the last barrier before going into the arena.

"As much as I will ever be," the village's newest traitor-convict murmured.

"Be right back, then!" Hiccup's new partner-in-crime said. She ran upstairs to door release.

Hiccup closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, bringing himself to a forced state of serenity. The grappling fear became a far-away sensation at the back of his mind.

The mechanism clanged and the cage-doors swung up.

The boy moved forward in small steps, his outlaw-chains loudly announcing his had returned already and now followed him closely.

"Thanks, Astrid, but I need to do this alone now," Hiccup said suddenly without looking back.

"I am tellin' you, guys, I fucking _sliced_ through the thing with my sword like it was made of _air_!" A new, obnoxiously-loud voice sounded behind them.

"Not true! We've seen your basement, and there was nothing there that you could have cut like that!" a husky female voice answered back.

"_Because _my mom cleaned it up! She chopped up the remainder of wood for our cooking hearth!"

Hiccup twisted himself immediately and saw a small group entering the arena.

Fishlegs was first to appear, his usual silverfish hammer in his hand and a helmet on his head.

"Hallloooo, Hiccup!" He called naturally with a hand wave, as if they had seen each other a few minutes before, and not after two days and some life-changing events." Apparently Snotlout's lost it."

"I am _not _crazy!" Snotlout was next to enter the Ring, still arguing with the trailing twins. Ruffnut looked annoyed while Tuffnut tried not to snicker.

"That's, like, your most ridiculous story yet!" Tuffnut could not resist to jest.

"No, I'm not making this up! Not even exaggerating like the last few times...you've _got_ to believe me guys!" Snotlout yelled to them. It was a terrible feeling to have nobody believing you when something extraordinary happened. Had any of them felt like him before?

He turned with a groan and saw Hiccup. His face twisted in anger and he charged at the smaller youth.

He promptly found himself kissing the stone floor, thanks to Astrid's outstretched leg planted in his path of attack.

"Stop it!" she hissed, not attempting to constrict his movement further.

His eyes widened as she continued giving him a scrutinising look," Whatever it is, it can wait until afterwards, right? You're a Viking! Suck it up!" She ordered sharply.

Furious, Snotlout clenched his jaw hard. Cursing, he lifted himself up and brushed off his clothes.

"Whatever...I'm only doing this because you asked me to, 'darling!' " he spoke under his breath in a dark tone he almost never used.

He took his place by Astrid and crossed his arms on his massive chest.

"Hey, guys," Hiccup said in awe as his former teammates stood in line. Fishlegs' hands hung negligently over the hammer handle he had swung over his back. Tuffnut grinned cockily. Ruffnut smiled with an approving nod, and Snotlout gave a glare like he wanted to kill Hiccup.

"So...what now?" Astrid asked for everybody.

"Just stand back and enjoy the show," Hiccup said with an inscrutable smile. Then he turned back to the first cage door and pulled its lever.

The double doors swung open, and the dragon promptly sauntered out. It towered over the exhausted, ragged and muddy teen.

Snotlout took a quick step back and gulped. The others showed emotions from awe to mild nervousness.

The Nadder loomed over small, bedraggled Hiccup, head turned and peering with a pinprick pupil in its - no, his- yellow eye.

Hiccup looked up without any sign of fear. He then stretched out his hand and made three slow clockwise turns.

"What's he doing?" Tuffnut whispered, body lowered and tense as a spring.

"Shh, don't disturb him," Astrid reprimanded quickly.

The movements finished, and Hiccup stood motionless. The azure beast's lips opened in what could only be a grin. He raised his powerful leg slightly and repeated the clockwise gestures. Then he set his clawed leg down with a smug nod.

_So you recognise my presence now, huh?_ Hiccup thought with an involuntary smirk. He dropped to one knee and outstretched his arms, hands open and palms up to show he held nothing there. He looked down for a moment before looking back into the draconic eye once more.

"I came here to save those that I care about, and I need your power and strength. Will you aid me?" The boy spoke confidently, stood up and put hand in front of him.

The Nadder snorted and his eye rolled. The ground thudded as he moved and bumped gently against the hand with the side of his massive muzzle.

Hiccup noticed the dried blood on it, but no cut. The cavity from Astrid's axe strike was gone as well.

Hiccup looked down and then shyly made a last request," Um, just one thing. You see, I have these chains on my legs. It's hard enough for me to walk, let alone fly. Would y-," he barely finished as the Nadder's tail flared.

The spiked quills stood up on the tail, which quivered. A few quills shot out to meet their targets. Four lever handles flashed sparks as the bonelike daggers hit them. Four doors swung open.

"How about-?" Hiccup started to ask as he took a step forward, finger raised in question when the bracers fell from his legs, both cut cleanly.

He stepped out of the puddle of chains, looked behind, and saw two of the Nadder's projectiles buried deeply into cracked stone.

He really had not seen that coming.

"Thanks," he said dryly and went with the order of business.

He saw that one cage door was not open, the one with the Terrible Terror. That confirmed it for Hiccup: the blue-armoured dragon knew why the teens needed the dragons' help, for the miniscule drake would not serve them any purpose. It also meant that the Nadder supported them for reasons known only to himself.

With renewed confidence, Hiccup now approached the Nightmare's cage.

After the antics of the unpredictable Nadder, the rest of the dragons were going to be easy.

* * *

He came to his senses as fast as he had lost them. As though a grey film had lifted from his eyes, he hastily surveyed his surroundings. His blurry sight sharpened, the crazed shapes turning into a small army of Viking warriors. He struggled, and the chains rang around his trapped body.

Toothless was going nowhere. He was trapped by a mind-pull, and his reactions to it were guiding the humans to the Nest.

To their doom.

The Fury growled gutturally. Was Seven correct? The promise was there, and the hope burned in him... revenge was close.

As before, he felt nothing; the enormous air pressure of memory wasn't there. Only a deadly, silent mountain occupied by an overgrown monster that Toothless intended to turn into dead meat.

The sleek dragon's mind burned with excitement. His body thrashed against the bonds, catching the attention of the humans. A few sharp commands of their leader, however, made them return to their tasks.

Toothless had been taught long ago that it was the purest happiness for any being to learn its purpose and follow it. IT had told him that more than once. The Fury had even believed in it during that short, unpleasant incident when he had slaughtered so many of his kind, even those who did nothing to hurt him personally.

That had been IT's gift for him, the behemoth had later told him, relaying the message in his head.

_You do not have a purpose, you're just broken, weak and empty. **I** will fill you up with a purpose so that you will want to live again...you are too precious to simply waste away. **I** will give you power. **I** will give you a new life. And you will hate me for it and fear me. And, above all,_ the monstrous jaws stretched in a grin as a one of the claws had hovered above Toothless's chest,_ you will always be mine._

The gigantic claw had then plunged into his chest. He had he felt the agonising pain and heard the macabre sound of his breaking bones as the claw destroyed his heart. In more ways than one.

Toothless gasped, coming back to the present. He now saw the island appearing in front of him.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He had not experienced that memory for a long time. His claws trembled once more, this time with fear. He felt small and weak again and, above all, lonely. He _needed_ Hiccup; the youth's presence was something Toothless needed to face the future. He was so very afraid. He knew he could not shake off his fear of IT, not alone.

He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes. Whatever would happen, he would be ready, he would adapt. As best as he could.

* * *

"Woooohooo! Look at me! I'm riding a dragon!" Tuffnut boasted as the Zippleback flew, furiously beating its wings.

"You mean _we're_ riding a dragon, blockhead!" Ruffnut shot from the neck of the dragon's left head. Her brother sat on the corresponding place on the right-hand head. The dragon appeared more than content with bickering humans on its body, and its flexible body shot through the air.

"This is _so_ much better than I imagined!" Fishlegs yelled from the back of the Gronckle. He sat on its back, the dragon's wings buzzing just behind his legs in a steady pattern, "I just want to ask you, Hiccup. Is the Gronckle a boy or girl?" he shouted his question to their newly-designated dragon squadron leader.

"Why don't you ask her?" Hiccup called back loudly with a wide smile. He was riding the dragon he least expected to allow him on its back, the Nadder. The fierce and beautiful creature soared peacefully under Hiccup, its multicoloured wings occasionally beating the air

"How do you know it's a she?" Fishlegs questioned, surprised.

"Um...Toothless taught me how to tell the difference," Hiccup said back, unsure of how it would sound. It was only half-true. He could not tell them, _yet_, that he had acquired the ability to feel the presence of other dragons and, from that, able to determine their gender.

He was the front passenger of two who rode the Nadder, secured only by a length of rope that Hiccup had tied around the dragon's neck. Astrid made herself fast as best she could, by anchoring her arms around Hiccup's waist.

The trill of being so close to the girl he...cherished.. so deeply kept Hiccup from feeling any dread that this Nadder was taking them all to their doom. He did not know where the dragon island was, no _human_ knew. Hiccup had just asked the Nadder to take them there, and he could only hope that the dragon would comply. And Hiccup did not dare to complain about the flight speed. In fact, he was discovering he quite liked racing along this fast.

"Taught you?" Fishlegs retorted immediately, his face looking hungry.

"Later! _Please_!" Hiccup pleaded and Astrid snickered. Fishlegs never gave up an opportunity to learn something new about dragons.

" How's your ride, Snotlout?" Hiccup asked his cousin.

The dark-haired teen had a grin plastered to his face, "This is the most awesome thing ever!" He exclaimed from just behind the Nightmare's massive head. He gripped the two spiralled horns like handles. The fiery red dragoness lolled her tongue out in joy of flying free. And, maybe, even happiness at sharing this sensation with a human rider?

It really _was_ working. Everything was going well, and he might even make everything right again for Berk and the dragons. If the dragons got there in time.

* * *

"Here's what we'll do. Three groups charging at the same time from three sides," Stoick said while drawing an arrow in the sand with a sword tip.

"Jus' like assaultin' a fortress," Veinsquirt noticed, a hammer almost as big as he was planted between his legs as he leaned his arms on its handle.

"Exactly," Stoick nodded to that member of his elite team.

Spitelout remained expressionless, as usual. Fleshpetal looked at the plan with a serious expression. Sweatdust, the only female leader, smiled, the heavy Morningstar on her shoulder showing off her muscular biceps. Even though she only had one eye, she never missed her strikes.

"Who will b' leaden' th' strike?" She asked in a deep, throaty voice, looking at the crimson-haired Chieftain from her one steel-grey eye; the other eye was hidden behind a leather eye patch.

"_I_ will," Stoick answered grimly. He returned the sword to Spitelout, who sheathed it on his belt.

"Shouldn't we all be closer to you when the catapult cracks the mountain open? There'll be too much distance between you and the main force to help out if something goes wrong," Fleshpetal's eager young voice rang out in the sudden silence. He was new to this command position, and he did not know yet when he could talk and when he needed to follow orders.

The others glanced back at him with slight disapproval. Stoick was open to suggestions when he was in his "normal" mood. Right now, though, everybody who stood around the Chieftain knew that talking back was not a wise move, not when timing and organization were of the utmost importance. Some considered interrupting the Chieftain while he discussed the final plans tactless, others suicidal.

"Proceed with your orders," the Chieftain said darkly, seeming not to notice Fleshpetal's comment.

The group leaders dispersed immediately to finish their preparations. Positioning the eight heavy catapults was now almost finished. The beach and the ground surrounding it was almost entirely flat and solid. It was a good place to fight, and they would not leave until they made sure that every dragon living on this island was dead. They knew it could take a while, and that was why they had taken enough provisions to remain here for a month.

Only one squadron commander remained.

"Th' young lad has a point there," Gobber said from his side," Why ar' ya goin' into the mountain alone? I almost think tha' ya want t' go t' Valhalla early," he said boldly.

"I can't risk more lives on this mission than I need to," Stoick said tiredly.

"Oh, an' goin' with th' whole village-worth of warriors t' a completely unknown territory is not risky? Just _bein'_ here is risk enough as it is. " The one-handed blacksmith shot back with a delicate hint of sarcasm. Only he could talk to the Chieftain in such way without getting an angry berating.

Stoick sighed, "Hiccup said that there's somethin' her' which might kill us all... 'I won't take any chances I don't have to," he said, looking at the grey mountainside.

"An', wha' if he's right?" Gobber queried calmly, peering at the same direction, "Maybe we don't know, really, what we're up against."

"Go overlook yer part of th' preparations," Stoick said, folding his hands behind his back.

"Aye, Sir," Gobber answered without a moment of hesitation, sensing the ordering tone.

Hiccup's mentor obeyed Stoick and limped back to oversee a group of warriors finishing the planting of a line of heavy wooden sticks sharpened at the end. These stuck up from the ground, serving as a defence to break the first wave of any ground attack. In an emergency, a Viking could also grab a stick and throw it like a spear against a flying adversary.

Gobber saw there was no point in getting deeper into the topic of a chained young man awaiting his execution. But he knew that, even if the Vikings did return victorious, they would lose much more. His comments about Stoick seeking Valhalla were actually based on Gobber's own wishes. If Gobber fell on the battlefield, he would not have to watch Hiccup's trial and execution. He would not have to deal with the grief he would feel afterwards, the loss of a brilliant young mind silenced forever. Gobber would fight his best today, and if it was destined for him to not be able to return back to Berk, he would not at all mind dying.

He massaged his back and breathed out deeply. He suddenly felt very, very tired.

* * *

**_We are getting close. Are you ready?_** Seven asked as the misty volcano-crowned island loomed on the skyline.

**_Yes, _**the Nadder answered patiently. He wheezed loudly, deepening his breath as they progressed to their destination. Another question about how he felt would only make him waste energy in checking his irritation instead of concentrating on a steady flight.

**_The battle has begun!_** Seven's voice rung in his head suddenly, her tone rising in excitement.

He groaned a draconian curse and concentrated, _Don't even think about it! _he told himself._ You already can barely fly with two riders, and you still need few months of rest to control your Element again!_

And yet here he was! He was wasting his precious energy in feeling his anger rise and then forcing it back down. Seven had an aggravating habit of stating the obvious when faced with danger! How had he put up with her for so long? Worse yet, how long had it actually been?

He groaned. He did not have time for this! As quickly he thought it, his pupils shrunk, and he felt an electric surge travelling through his body. He did not feel exhaustion or pain anymore.

The dragon shot through the sky with redoubled speed; the other beasts sped up as well, trying to keep up.

On the Nadder, Hiccup squeezed his hands on the rope tighter. He sensed the surge of power in the muscled shoulder and back beneath him and, as many times as he had experienced it, it was still hard to adjust to something so unnatural. And yet so wondrous.

* * *

Everything ended much sooner than any of the Vikings expected. As planned, the catapults broke a wall in the mountain and then dragons poured out in enormous waves. Instead of fighting, they flew away in a cacophony of shrieks, growls and roars. Not one human received so much as a scratch from the fleeing hoard. It was strange, considering how readily the dragons attacked Berk.

_The cowards are running away from us. Not so brave when we attack 'em on their own territory! _Stoick thought with passion, his inbred Viking boastfulness peaking.

It was half true. He was correct in assuming that his mortal enemies were fleeing, although the flying beasts were not escaping from humans.

It was time for the Vikings to be introduced to their limitations... and learn an interesting lesson in humility.

An overwhelming roar swept from the depths of the volcano. Something shook the entire area with rhythmical thuds, almost like steps.

The deafening sounds neared, and Stoick found himself running back from where he stood, horrified by the noise. A moment later, the entire mountain slope shattered, and the humans finally saw what they were up against.

The monstrosity, a dragon as big as a small mountain, opened its sharp-fanged mouth. Each tooth was as big as two fully-grown men. The beast roared once more to the sky. The chilling noise was enough to send everybody reeling back in blind fear and panic.

The colossus broke the mountainside further as it moved forward on four heavy legs with massively clawed feet. As Stoick ran, looking rapidly over his shoulder, he saw two enormous wings folded against the dragon's sides.

Approaching the soldiers, he waved his hands for attention.

"Shoot th' catapults! Hold yer lines!" He boomed as strongly as he could. He was scared witless, but he could not show it to his men. Whatever this monster was, they would fight it with all their strength!

The crews remained by the machines releasing the mechanisms. Each rounded boulder shot into the air in a parabola and landed squarely on the hill-sized enemy, bouncing back from the hard skin and scales. The only effect the rocks had was to make the monster more angry.

"Thor help us!" Stoick said quietly to himself as the behemoth took another step closer- and another quake almost caused the Chieftain to stumble.

He forced a mask of calmness on his demeanour and started shouting orders. Warriors, hearing their leader's unwavering courage, went back to their positions. More rocks, spears and miscellaneous sharp objects flew from all directions, yet striking on and falling back uselessly from the monster's sides. They had no effect at all.

_Hiccup was right, so very right! _Those words echoed repeatedly in Stoick's head as he tried to maintain what remained of their rapidly-crumbling defences. He looked on hopelessly as their nemesis opened its jaws and lifted an entire catapult into the air as if it was a child's toy. With a roar sounding almost like a laugh, the monstrosity chucked it to one side, shattering the machine into toothpicks.

It was getting closer. Soon, they would have nowhere to fall back to. For the very first time in his life, Stoick was out of options. He could only fight back until death took him.

"Continue firin'!" He bellowed to those behind him. He pulled a spear away from a fear-stricken young warrior near him and threw it with a cry. Like everything else, the spear was deflected off the dragon's thick hide.

Another catapulted rock hit the monster right in its muzzle. For a split moment the gigantic legs did not bulge in movement, and the Chieftain desperately hoped the damage might be taking its toll on the creature.

However, instead of going down, the leviathan opened its jaws fully and roared in fury.

Most of the men and women had now regrouped near the coast, some trying to jump into the _drakkars_ and escape, uncaring of the shame.

"No! Go back to your positions!" Stoick shouted. He now realized he was almost alone on the battlefield. There was only Spitelout with his small band of warriors. His younger brother threw one weapon after another, his face writhed in a rare display of fear.

"It's goin' t' fire!" One of Spitelout's soldiers hollered warningly.

The Chieftain turned around rapidly to see the beast taking a deep breath, its muzzle lifted into the sky. Six grey-glazed eyes looked down at the small Viking creatures below.

Responding to the training of his teenage years, Stoick scanned the ground around him and dropped down flat. He rolled along the ground, grabbing one of the abandoned shields and crouched behind it, awaiting the blast. He did not have to wait for long.

* * *

Spitelout did everything humanly to possible to protect others. It was his duty and honour, although he could not shake off the feeling that everything they were doing was so...futile Here he was, throwing another hammer at something which could swallow ten of their men in one go. What he was supposed to do? Or to say? He really hoped his brother had this feeling as well.

This was all just wrong, they should never come here with such an attack. All he and the other leaders had done was to bring their people to total devastation. True, it would be a chance to die a beautiful and poetic death, worthy of even most demanding Viking. What is more honourable than facing a losing battle and dying bravely? The problem was, what would it all accomplish? They were probably not going to kill this monster, so it would still be free to rampage. And the village would have lost most of her fighting force. She would be defenceless against other enemies, and Berk had plenty of them. Even as Spitelout faced his impending death, he could not help but to worry about his precious village.

"It's goin' t' flame!" Somebody yelled, panic-stricken.

Spitelout looked up, frozen with his half-raised sword in hand. The behemoth was indeed going to fire! He reacted like his brother while gathering had his men around him. Their safety was his priority.

"Don't run! Shields up!" He boomed at the warriors, many who showed they wanted to make to run back to the water. He then noticed a shield on the ground and a warrior barely out of his teens who kept gaping at the beast. He already felt the heat behind him and everything slowed down for him. He knew what to do instantly. He dropped the weapon and ran as fast as he could.

_Please, Odin, let me make it!_ He prayed, just a few steps away, the golden flames almost touching him. Finally, he was able to embrace the petrified youth, pulling him close to his body and shielding him from the explosion. He remembered only a short, agonising pain as everything on him burned and then everything went black.

* * *

Everything was filled with fire and smoke, including, Stoick noticed, his bearskin cloak. He tore it from his neck immediately and looked for survivors. He was relieved to see people lifting themselves from behind their shields and even more swimming up from the water.

Then his heart dropped when he saw the waterline. His whole armada was on fire. Every sail had been ignited by the behemoth's blast. They had gone up like dried grass, disappearing before his eyes.

To his relief he saw Veinsquirt helping one of his subordinates to his feet.

"Squirt! To me!" Stoick shouted, himself running to meet the squadron commander. The bulky hammer-swinger was next to him in an instant.

"Sir!" He saluted, pressing his fist to his chest.

"Go gather up as many of the troop as ya can! Take 'em to the other side of th' island! Help...as many as ya can," he faltered only for a moment when he saw several dead soldiers. Their burning corpses were beyond recognition.

"Aye, sir!" Veinsquirt sprinted to the first group of stunned soldiers and relayed Stoick's orders.

"Now then...," Stoick said to himself and grabbed one of the axes by his side. He let it go immediately, hissing as it burned his hand.

At least the leviathan was preoccupied with destroying the remaining catapults mindlessly, as if they would still shower it with hurling rocks.

The Chieftain took advantage of that distraction. He savagely ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of his smoke- blackened tunic. He quickly tied the filthy rag around his palm and squatted down, searching for a weapon again.

"Smart, tha' one, destroyin' our only means of escape'," a gruff voice informed him from over his shoulder. He looked up. It was an ash-stained and scratched Gobber, holding a shield and mounted axe.

"What ar' ya doin' 'ere? I gave th' orders t' get t' the other side of th' island. Go now!" Stoick ordered calmly.

"Oh no!" Gobber retorted instantly placing his left hand his friend's powerful shoulder," Somethin' tells me I should stick around in case ye'll try somethin' crazy," he said with a smirk the Chieftain recognised.

"Go, Gobber! I'm buying a few minutes for ya all, "Stoick spoke unsurely.

The brotherly heaviness on his shoulder pressed harder.

"Then I can double tha' time," Gobber said with a determined gaze. He held out his hand so Stoick could grab it and stand up again.

It was just like the days of their youth when they were headstrong and laughing at death! Those days when they rushed, howling with joy, into battle and always managing to win. Stoick found himself smiling as he ran away from the coast.

He faced the dragon.

"Over here, ya overgrown salamander! Eat me!" He taunted the beast.

Not seeing any reaction he threw his sword, aiming at one of its eyes. He almost hit his target, and it worked wonders. The monster immediately made a move to gobble him up.

"No! Eat _me!_" Gobber staggered as quickly as he could right behind the Chieftain.

The enormous dragon took another step forward in its quest to devour the two grinning humans when a powerful fireball exploded above its left-hand side. The blast's power caused the monstrosity to fall to its knees. A bright yellow cloud rose up from the targeted area.

Then a sharp shape flew across the expanding flames, distorting it. Immediately it wheeled back with a loud whistle of air. Stoick identified the blurry silhouette as a dragon, which was now firing another bright yellowish orb. It exploded with the same impact on the enormous muzzle; the six-eyed creature roared with rock-splitting volume.

"Look at us! We're on dragons!" Stoick heard a teenage voice coming from...above? The sharp-winged shape turned out to be a bright blue dragon with a spiked tail, and there were more accompanying it. And they all had humans on their backs!

Stoick could only gape as they all passed over the enemy, showering it with a barrage of fireballs. He shielded his eyes as the rapid shockwaves flew over him.

He saw Hiccup. He was certain of that, _there_ _was his son_ on the Nadder! Now he heard Hiccup yelling commands to other dragonriders in a voice full of confidence- a leader's voice.

Stoick's jaw continued to hang loosely. He barely could mouth the words, "By Odin."

"That boy sure's somethin', Gobber said nonchalantly. He stood next to him, grinning. His false tooth stood out in his smoke-smudged face.

Stoick could only nod weakly in a agreement.

* * *

Their attacks did not damage the beast. That was intended; they served only as a distraction. The scrawny human leader's first priority was to free Toothless and let him join the fight. A very desirable move, that was, since this was ultimately the Night Fury's battle.

The Nadder shrieked, and every dragon dispersed as a tunnel of fire blasted by them. The azure dragon dived in a spiral, his riders flattening against his neck. He served another fireball on his own, stopping IT's fiery retaliation.

Hiccup shouted to his group to keep up the diversion attacks so he could start looking for his draconic partner. The master dragon complied with the teen's quiet request and changed course. He headed to the coastline, flying lower for better surveillance. Dark, oily smoke obstructed his vision and nostrils, and more explosions behind him assaulted his sensitive eardrums.

He noticed their goal just as Hiccup shouted.

"There he is!" the youth pointed at an area completely hidden by the persistent smoke and walls of fire. Even if nothing could be seen, the young human's new-found relationship with dragons enabled him to sense Toothless' presence.

Amidst the chaos of battle, the Nadder fought to conceal his excitement on getting to know the one named Toothless better. It had been too long since he had an opportunity to actually talk to another dragon besides Seven. The other dragons in the Ring were far from being the most intelligent audience. They had grown up under the influence of IT, never knowing the proper communication or culture of dragons. Their imprisonment had kept them mentally weak and physically out of shape. Their mind-training was almost non-existent.

_Face it, I would have a better conversation with a sheep. Providing there was a sheep and I didn't eat it first. No, I actually prefer domesticated goats- they taste more gamey. Well, it's beside the point. Didn't you notice there's a battle going on, right now? Look sharp, Nadder!_

He felt his back get lighter as Hiccup leapt off to the deck below.

Oh, they were there already!

"I've got it from here, you two! Go!" The miniscule human shouted back with a hand wave.

In one powerful beat of wings the Nadder flashed towards the enemy, feeling Astrid now take a grip on the neck rope. The Nadder scoped out the battle with IT as he flew closer.

Somehow, Snotlout had ended up on IT's muzzle, acquainting the monster's grey eyes with Fishlegs' hammer.

Fishlegs himself, was now concentrating on banging a smaller weapon against his shield, distracting the great dragon from Snotlout. Beneath him, the Gronckle flew calmly around the monster.

"Got something in your eye?" The robust Snotlout asked affably, slamming Fishlegs' hammer into the dragon's misted pupils

His glee was short-lived as the leviathan tossed its head upwards, launching the pesky human into the air. The jaws gaped wide, awaiting their victim. Snotlout barely felt the gravity working again when he was scooped from the air as though he were prey being caught by a monstrosity blinked stupidly as it realized its meal had not courteously accepted the invitation to fall between its teeth.

The Nadder gave the ground a brief glance as he darted away, now with wiggling human baggage dangling from his leg.

Far below, the humans were evacuating themselves far from the battle, pausing to helping injured comrades. They did everything not to get in the range of any further fire attacks.

The Nadder realized he was also the sole dragon left fighting IT. The Gronckle was on the ground now, running on its short legs with Fishlegs now crouching behind a rock to avoid fire. The Zippleback was flying away, panicked. The double-headed dragon landed on the ground and refused to leave, ignoring the frantic urging of its riders. Nearby, The Nightmare looked desperately from the ground at her future rider, not really knowing what to do.

_That's what a lifetime of living under IT will get you: no sense of organization, self discipline or motivation in young dragons these days. What's the world coming to?_

Well, the Nadder already had his strategy in mind.

_First: get rid of the hindrances on my back and in my claws, namely humans. Second: lure that excuse for an overgrown worm crossed with a whale_ _ from the immediate area. Third: help Hiccup with the chains so Toothless can have his little showdown._

IT fired again with a steady torrent. The Nadder banked sharply, avoiding the beast. The enemy's accuracy was downright pathetic! IT tried to compensate for its bad aim with an abundance of firepower.

_All hot air and no substance._

The ground rose up. The Nadder gently swooped down and released the human in his claws as carefully as he could. Snotlout rolled and came to a quick stop. However, before the boy could release his own burden of curses, his Nightmare galloped up and snatched him in her jaws by his vest. She proudly carried him away like a cat carrying its young, the man's disapproving yells floating up behind her.

Now, to remove Astrid from the battle. She had attached herself firmly on his neck, holding the rope as her life depended on it. (And, in truth, it did). She did not yell in fright although she smelled of fear. The Nadder found her attitude quite respectable for somebody who had barely had contact with dragons.

The Nadder landed behind a large rock, shielding himself and his passenger from the wrath of the beast stomping behind them. A short chirp and a toss of the head was all that Astrid needed to understand his intentions.

She jumped off gracefully and wished him good luck. He snorted, disappearing in a cloud of grey sand. He would not need wishes for luck. Probably. Hopefully. He surveyed the line of burning ships; Hiccup was still struggling with the chains. That boy! If only he could exchange his immature bravado for any reasonable sense of usefulness in freeing Toothless.

Still, IT had to be led away from the ships so Hiccup could keep trying to free the snarling Toothless. One more firestorm like the one IT had sent before, and there would be no more hopes of revenge for the young drake.

The Nadder arrowed back, trailing clouds of dust.. He closed the distance to his ancient target in the blink of an eye. Someone from the ground would have seen him as a blue blur.

Before the monster noticed, the Nadder struck its side with two bony quills. Those projectiles did what catapulted rocks and Viking spears could not: cut through thick skin and bored into muscle. And caused real pain.

_C'mon! Get mad...react on instinct...shift your balance forward so it is easier for me to get to your big, fat..._

The beast's eyes widened in delirium and unexpected grace for such a massive being. It lifted its left front leg and tried to squash the nimble Nadder like a bug. Tried and failed; the powerful paw did not squash anything except sand. The Nadder had jumped first onto the behemoth's knee, and then, impossibly, to a position high above the beast's head.

_...Head!_

Out of the spinning whirlwind of wings and scales, the Nadder's powerful legs struck against the monster's skull.

The cliff trembled as though a few dozen of bombards had fired. Two enormous front legs buckled, useless against an overpowering strength, and the beast's head plummeted to the ground. The whole mountain quaked as the massive beast impacted violently against the ground.

The Nadder soared above and would have quit the assault if the monster had not raised its head. The Nadder just could not help himself. Combating one of the draconic world's most powerful beings sent a thrill through his body. One beat of his wings was enough to send him diving in a flash. He somersaulted at the last moment to land with his legs once more on the monstrous head. The world seemed to quake as the monster's skull formed a small crater beneath it, a halo of sand quickly dispersing.

With the same speed, the Nadder jumped backwards, away from the fallen creature, sliding on the sand as he decelerated.

This was too easy! He had expected more resistance from that pathetic lump of meat. It was actually disappointing! There was no challenge in it! It was...

_Phaw. Call it like it is: disgraceful._

Ending the life of this creature would be more like an act of mercy than an honourable fight.

The behemoth shifted unsteadily; it would not be long before it got back on its feet.

The Nadder's pupils, shrunk to pinpricks in battle-frenzy, shifted to the coast once more. He was a good distance from any human or dragon interference. The burning ship-line was almost out of sight.

But not quite.

The Nadder heard Hiccup scream in fright. The dragon barely saw the mast of the adjoining _drakkar_ splinter, weakened by the consuming fires, crack on its pole and fall. The mast crashed on the boat containing Toothless and Hiccup.

The implications of that were enough to jar the Nadder's carefully balanced concentrations that kept his dangerously-low internal energy in harmonious flow.

The now- unbalanced Nadder did not see the ship sink. Likewise, he didn't see Stoick jumping immediately after his son into the dark waters. He did not see anything. His mind had frozen along with his body. His pupils dilated and he looked on with an empty gaze.

Luckily, his brain started working again soon. He now felt a wet, hot dribble of blood coming from his nostrils. Head ringing in agony, he saw the Chieftain emerge from the dark brine, carrying Hiccup under his arm. The man laid Hiccup, choking and gasping for air, on the rocky shore. The red-haired human dived again.

And then IT was on its legs again. A monstrous paw swiped. It connected easily with the mind-weakened Nadder. The blue dragon shot up and into the air, tossed like a ball towards the ocean. His body arced, and then dropped rapidly, hitting the shore instead of the water. The Nadder bounced off the sand a few times, then was propelled through the flaming remains of the catapults. Like a tossed stone skipping on a pond's surface, he impacted against the wooden remains a few times before his body slammed into the base of a worn basalt stack jutting just above the water. The seastack exploded in a shower of stone. A mass of rock tumbled downwards into the ocean, taking the Nadder beneath and burying him alive.

* * *

His emotions shifted faster than he ever remembered, from happiness at seeing Hiccup again, to shock as they both disappeared beneath the water, and, finally, to despair as Scalgertar's body floated without moving, deprived of air.

A massive human arm plunged into view and grabbed at Hiccup's ragged tunic collar. A powerful Viking hauled the youth up to the surface. Toothless felt a huge surge of relief. Scalgertar would live.

Then something unexpected happened: a dark object was diving down towards him. Toothless opened his eyes wider and found himself head to head with Stoick. The Fury felt hate, not for killing other dragons, but for how Stoick had caused his son so much pain and misery.

The man's green eyes seemed to carry a similar feeling regarding Toothless.

The moment was disturbed by a powerful report as if something close by had detonated. It distracted Toothless. Stoick swam closer and grabbed the wooden collar around Toothless's neck. The clasp broke easily, and the dragon felt his bindings loosening. Looking one last time at the floating human, the black dragon thrust with his hind legs and tail, shooting to the surface with Stoick held safely in his front paws.

Toothless jumped out of the water, dropping the muscular man onto the rocky shore. He then landed nearby. When his vision cleared, his first was of his nemesis, roaring with anger. And next, at the edge of his vision, a dripping wet Hiccup clambering to his feet.

The Fury tossed his head in the direction of IT and gave a short growl, his message clear.

"Got it, bud," Hiccup said, with a shadow of smile, running to his partner. He leapt with practice onto the Fury's back and locked himself to the saddle.

There was one last disturbance before they took flight. To Toothless, it was merely a distraction. But Hiccup would come to remember it as one of the most meaningful moments in his life.

Stoick rushed to his son and seized the boy's small hand, holding it tenderly between his own huge ones.

Toothless did not disturb the moment; he sensed that Hiccup needed this gesture. Hiccup's unyielding warmness towards the burly person who had caused him so much misery was still a mystery to the dragon

"H-Hiccup...son," the Viking chieftain stuttered, for the first time in his life looking _up_ at his child. It was this boy who had the power and ability at this moment. Hiccup had been right all this time, and Stoick felt crushed under the overwhelming guilt of how he should have acted, how things should have been.

There were a lot of _shoulds_ and _woulds_.

"Hiccup, ya don't hav' t' d' this," he offered. His child smiled sadly. He appeared much older and stronger, ready to accept any responsibility on his shoulders.

"We are Vikings...it's an occupational hazard," he spoke with ghost of a smile.

"I wanted to tell you, that...that I'm very proud of you, son...I-I really am," Stoick spoke gently, not something he was accustomed to do.

Hiccup did not answer at first, yet his emotions spoke for him. Toothless felt happiness emanating from the youth, but it was mixed with sadness, relief, guilt and so many other sensations Toothless did not have names for. The dragon really did not understand this. It was something which had meaning for Hiccup, though. Just- why were the emotions and words sounding so much like the way humans said their final farewells? Was the boy going away, never to see his father again?

"Thanks, dad," the scrawny boy said, slowly, almost reluctantly, pulling his palm out of the loving hold.

_Is this love?_ Toothless thought for a second, casting a glance up at his passenger. Hiccup had told him that a child loves his or her parent, and it was something innate to the species. Was this love? This painful sensation, weirdly soothing and confusing at the same time? He really did not understand it.

The conversation was done and Hiccup patted the black neck, his feelings of deep joy and gratitude at being united with Toothless flowing into the dragon

With one great downbeat they were up, high in the sky, where they belonged.

* * *

Stoick had exactly five seconds of bittersweet reminiscence when something, moving unsteadily, appeared behind him. He turned around to find the Nadder looking more battered than actually injured. Water dribbled from it, and a fish wriggled in its massive jaws. Various lacerations, dented scales, bruises and gashes stippled its body; surprisingly none of the injuries bled. The Nadder ate the fish in one gulp. Without paying even the slightest attention to Stoick, the dragon limped slowly away.

The leader of Berk shook off his bewilderment, and rushed to his help his people as best as he could.

* * *

The clouds were dark, creating an impenetrable barrier. Toothless had now gained enough height to perform his first attack. There was no more doubt in his mind. His crystal clear sense of purpose came from the monster before him, and the courage he needed to do accomplish it came from the partner on his back.

The smoke-stained wind whistled as he dived, screeching as he plummeted. It was as though he were the offspring of lightning and death itself! He would deliver both that day. His pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and the world slowed as he released his favourite battle technique. His extended senses felt Hiccup stiffening at first to the surge of energy, but the youth relaxed almost immediately. His heart rate slowed down until both he and the Fury were matched, heartbeat for heartbeat.

The giant looked up with unseeing eyes at the source of the ominous banshee scream. A blue orb darted through the air and exploded in electric fire as a dark silhouette flew past. The beast found itself crashing to the ground for the third time that day, the explosion sizzling the monster's skin. Before IT could react, Toothless spun gracefully and plunged once more, repeating the sequence. The bluish flame expanded, haloing the monstrosity's neck.

Toothless launched another fireball. This time instead of hitting the monster and making more damage, it exploded before IT as if striking an invisible wall. For a moment, Hiccup thought he saw something transparent that had deflected the azure flames.

_So it is not completely degraded and powerless,_ Toothless thought, calmly.

The beast unfurled its wings, easily twenty times its size and flapped them. The monstrosity lifted itself slowly and followed the elusive dragon. The Night Fury was the fastest dragon of all, but IT was able to keep up quite easily. It should not have been possible, but then the ancient creature behind Toothless was anything but natural. Air shimmered around its wings as it moved with a speed surprising for such sluggish wing pumping.

To Hiccup, it appeared as if the wing movement was only an artistic effect and the body was moving by itself. It was crazy to think that; however, he could not doubt what he saw. They flew towards the sea stacks, zigzagging with practiced grace in hope of losing their adversary. Hiccup believed that they really could break free of the chase.

Toothless did not hope; he knew that it would only slow IT down a bit. At best.

His predictions came true, as the beast did nothing to avoid the stacks. Stones broke against its hide as it ploughed through. Indeed, the stones slowed IT. But only a bit.

"To the clouds!" Hiccup yelled through the thundering sounds of destructions and the Fury obeyed, ascending towards the dark cover, the monstrosity following with a mighty roar.

They entered the clouds. They smelled of sulphur and the boy had to blink often as it irritated his eyes. For a moment, they emerged from under the blackened mist and saw their target, hovering amidst the clouds, looking around.

"Bud, I am leaving it to you. Blast some holes in its wings!" Hiccup murmured quietly, as if he'd be overheard if he raised his voice. Toothless's eyes narrowed and the dragon plunged again into the clouds, stealthily flying a tightening circle around his unsuspecting prey. He was in his element, his domain. The first neon-blue explosion lit the sky as if with lightning. The Fury's blasts tearing time after time at the monster's wings. Hiccup spoke to his dragon in gentle, unwavering voice, his instructions clear though no words were spoken. They were in perfect synchronisation, a perfect, deadly combination, working towards their goal with methodical and merciless precision.

* * *

There were soft steps by his side. He did not move, looking at the shaded sky. It illuminated as a barrage of explosions sounded.

**_I can't leave you for even a moment, can't I?_** Seven said in his mind. For once, her mildly irritated voice did not test his patience.

He was in the most wonderful of moods, as he usually was when observing a heated battle. His eye drifted to the side and his lips curled in a human-like smile.

"It is good to actually see you again," he chirped and returned to observing the spectacle.

Another pair of eyes joined him. **_What if they lose?_** Seven asked, as usual concentrating only on the negative outcomes**_._**

"They won't," the Nadder replied, stretching his neck upwards as the lightning cracks intensified. Moments later a small, dark silhouette emerged from the smoky void, a monstrous mass following right behind. They both now seemed to be diving towards the ground.

" Even the sharpest of swords is nothing but an heartless item if it doesn't have a skilful, wise hand to guide it," The Nadder said, trying to make out the human on Toothless' back. The Nadder, as if in a trance, walked forward slowly, capturing the scene, boring every detail forever into his mind," And even the wisest and most practised of hands is impotent without a sword!"

He growled, his volume rising in pitch as the two combatants came closer and closer to the rocky earth in their deadly dance.

IT's maw had opened and the green, flammable gasses started to gather at the back of its throat, ready to be ignited.

" Only _together_ can the hand and the sword manifest their full power! **Now,** **deal the finishing blow**!" The Nadder gave a full roar, his wings shooting upwards.

At the same moment, the Fury twisted around completely until he faced IT, his human braced against his neck. A ball of energy left Toothless's snout and flared up inside IT's throat.

Gasses started consuming the enormous body from the inside. The Fury unfurled his wings fully and flicked upwards, heading far above the rocky surface.

The behemoth did not have such luck. The numerous holes in its wings dealt by the much smaller dragon expanded under the crushing air pressure. IT unfolded the tattered wings in a failed attempt to stop the descent.

Toothless soared upwards, almost grazing IT's skin, dodging the maze of gnarled back and tail spikes. And then his most hated enemy hit the earth and exploded. Just exploded.

The Nadder grinned madly as the wall of fire beckoned to him from the corpse of an entity now lost to time.

* * *

He _had_ to escape!

It was the first thought which appeared as soon as he killed what he sworn to destroy. There was no happiness from the deed or any sort of satisfaction. There would be time for that later.

Toothless heard the gear pedal on his flight harness squeak rapidly as the sweaty, exhausted youth shifted its position once again and they rolled, avoiding another glancing row of spikes.

Everything was going well, and they were almost past the behemoth's tumbling mass..

Perhaps it was due to a moment's lapse of concentration from Hiccup or Toothless, a flaw in the design of the tail-fin, or simply a coincidence that the massive tail crashed into the Fury's side, separating rider and dragon.

Hiccup was thrown from the saddle, already unconscious. He fell, motionless and tiny, towards the vast sea of flames beneath.

Toothless gasped from the pain flaring along in his chest and saw his most precious partner falling into an inferno.

Without a thought, his wings pumped furiously downwards, guiding him towards the hellish fury and his one and only friend.

He now remembered that long-ago dream with the boy-Hiccup offering him a small red flame in his so-very- tiny hands. That presence had soothed his nightmares, offered tranquillity to Toothless' tormented mind. He did not want- he _could_ not- lose something so precious to him as this small youth.

He would fail again, as he had failed in protecting his clan, his sister and his younger brother. He would shatter like a shard of ice on a rock.

Gravity helped him drop faster, and he closed the gap between himself and Hiccup very quickly. The boy's leg now came into the range of the dragon's snout.

He wanted the boy to live. And, hopefully, to be able to forgive him one day for what he had to do next.

His jaws closed violently on the leg, below the knee. He jerked back his strong neck, halting the boy's fall and yanking the scrawny body to himself. He tried not to notice how fragile flesh and bone disintegrated in his jaws. The outcome was what mattered. He let go of the leg and caught Hiccup's torso in a protective embrace of his legs.

Front legs closed around the boy's back and, shortly after, his velvety wings folded tighter still, a fire-resistant cocoon. Toothless fell freely and closed his eyes. He had never really had any hopes or dreams in his life; at this moment, however, he had one strong hope. He hoped desperately that his body would be strong enough to withstand the shock of the impact, enough to protect his fragile cargo.

The flames engulfed him fully and he waited for the fall...

...and waited...

It never came. Instead, he felt something non-physical embrace him. He opened his exhausted eyes and saw himself being carried gently to the ground. His whole world seemed surrounded by fire. He tiredly surveyed the flames and picked up the vague silhouette of a dragon. He _thought_ it was a dragon- the only thing he saw clearly were two eyes, shining with power through the flames.

He thought he had seen those eyes before...why did they seem so familiar?

**_Rest now brave one. Your task is complete,_** the gentle voice commanded him.

He tried to fight the sudden sense of exhaustion which threatened to consume his could not rest yet. He had to see if Scalgertar was fine. He had to be sure that he did not fail. He wanted to be there for Hiccup. He could not...leave...him.

The comforting power penetrated him and tore at his will like an old fabric. Toothless closed his eyes and let himself drift. Now in the absolute darkness he craved so much, he heard his own heartbeat, the slow and strong beats of life. Another heartbeat joined in, and he saw that dream-vision Hiccup in front of him. But it was not the same Hiccup. He was a youth now, not a boy. The young man's face was covered in scratches and smoke-blackened. His human clothes were little more than rags and burnt holes. His left leg, below the knee, was covered in dark shadows. But his dragon-green eyes were still full of kindness and power.

As in that long-ago dream, Hiccup reached out his hands, again presenting the red flame to Toothless. The last time Toothless had not accepted it because he had not been ready.

Toothless rarely understood what his subconscious tried to tell him, but this time he knew what to do. The dream- Hiccup wanted to give him back his heart he thought he had lost. Light and dark stood against each other, then the shadows extended and in the red illumination Toothless could now see his and Hiccup's actual forms. Together they lay on the rocky ground.

The mysterious benefactor was gone.

Wings, dark as moonless night, wrapped themselves around the small, battered figure. The Fury rested his head gently against the human's back.

No words could describe this moment, and none were necessary. The dragon and the human were there for each other.

That was enough.

The embrace lingered until Toothless truly slipped into unconsciousness and he slept without dreams, but with a feeling of being enfolded in something infinitely tender and caring.

* * *

**AN: And here we are. More than a year after I started writing the Truth I am finally done with the canon. Now we will move into fully original region of the story. You might ask yourself why I wanted to use the movie as a main plot instead of creating my own? There are a few reasons. First: It was great writing practice as English is not my first language. Second: It is my personal tribute to the movie and my way of honouring it. I love it and I hope this short story is showing it enough. **

**To celebrate this momentous occasion I would like to ask you to write me a review summing the story so far. Were the characters realistic enough? Too much descriptions? Too little? Somebody OOC? Poor dialogues? Etc etc. Feel free to write anything.**

**In future chapters expect more OCs, more existential musings, explosions, action, mystery...the usual.**

**Lastly. If you want to use any idea or absolutely anything else in the story, feel free to do so. What mine is yours, no need to credit me in any way. It would be a hypocrisy of me to not allow anyone to use my work as I am using Dreamwork's masterpiece without their consent. **

**See you later.**


	31. Little Details

**AN: Please reread chapter 17, speifically the part with Amyna before reading this bit.**

**Few hints from me. Be very open-minded when reading as we are going deep into weird zone. Have some Empire's length measurements ( Just because I am a bit of a nerd and I like when everything in my story makes as much sense as possible). **

**1 pace= 90 centimetres **

**Track = 600 paces = 540 meters **

**Length= 3 tracks= 1620 meters **

**Thank you to Fjord Mustang for beta-reading as usual.  
**

* * *

The ash still flew from the sky in the form of fluffy flakes. It might have been a tasty treat to certain sadistic human poets to somehow compare the concept of incinerated pieces of exploded human and dragon flesh, now falling in spongy, grey flakes, to the peaceful beauty of a midwinter snowfall.

There were no humans left on the island. The last one had left around two hours ago on the back of a dragon, escaping this Hel- hole along with his brethren.

The injured bipeds had been packed on the backs of the more willing of the larger dragons. Under the strict scrutiny of a certain Nadder, the large flock of dragons flew back to Berk without missing or eating any humans along the way.

That particular Nadder was back on the island, free of his soft-skinned cargo and the responsibility to make sure the Vikings would arrive at the island in one piece.

Well, in most cases.

**_Would you mind doing something not involving the destruction of the area for a change?_** Seven asked with a more than an audible hint of annoyance in her voice, not turning from her inspection of the large carcass. Some pieces were still smoking. Some were still even raw, rapidly decaying, meat and muscle. Some were charred to a crisp. She was now gazing at the burnt remains of a particularly big piece which she identified as a part of IT's lower back.

The Nadder neither answered nor gave a solid rebuttal why he had decided to carry a rider and help humans, again, to reach their destination. It counted as something quite productive in his mind, and he assumed Seven was simply being crass with him. After all, she was stuck with slicing through rapidly-decaying, foul-smelling meat to find whatever she wanted- and he was, instead, entertaining himself by throwing rocks into the air with his tail and destroying them with his quills.

If he had answered that he was merely saving thousands of lives and guiding hundreds of dragons to their new home, the Nadder knew he would gain the wrath of an irritated female...being. She would verbally lash him into submission and an inexplicable sensation of guilt. It never worked in his favour when she was in one of these moods. Tha main reason, he wanted to avoid Seven raising her voice was that it resulted in a mean headache for him.

However, if he continued to ignore Seven and enjoy his, always necessary, target practice, she would still wind up thrashing him with long words and a lot of statistics about how he could have been more productive. The ever-looming prospect of a headache - no matter what he decided- was the main reason he yielded to Seven's telepathically shouted demands.

He had to say something...yes. If he had learned anything about his occasionally explosive companion, it was that she enjoyed verbal exchange - she even seemed to crave it.

There was no way he would be of any help to her, as he was not in any way knowledgeable with IT's anatomy. Maybe no one was.

He thought for exactly three seconds about how to solve the problem.

There was a small fluctuation in her voice in Seven's question; she wanted him to stop having his target practice. That much he understood, but what else? There was _always _some ulterior motive in Seven's actions.

"Just what are we doing here, anyway?" He decided to ask. It seemed as an important question to ask. He was not really interested, but for the sake of avoiding a headache...

**_You? Injuring yourself further. Me? I want to check the corpse for any abnormalities,_** Seven stated evenly.

A bright blue glow danced on the Nadder's muzzle as he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the light. The electric crackle and smell of burning meat, the sound of ripped flesh and broken bones was making him feel...hungry.

He marched to the coast by the water. He felt the need to hunt, to feel the connection between the prey and hunter, the dance between life and death, the ancient ritual of displaying fitness and strength.

The Nadder fired a bright yellow fireball at the water surface. It exploded with concussive echo, a splash of water and billows of evaporating steam. Soon after**,** every fish by the coast emerged, their stomachs glistening silvery, unmoving and ready to be eaten.

How times did change! The Nadder had replaced the more traditional and challenging chase after prey into a more tedious- but energy efficient - display of his species' cleverness and ingenuity.

The blue dragon returned a few minutes later after a very successful "hunt", licking his muzzle. He stretched his neck, the action accompanied by loud cracks.

Then he realised something.

He asked his companion, "How would you know what to look for? From what you have told me the,-" The Nadder's muzzle froze as his brain searched the proper memory data,"-Genetic Degeneration and Cellular Malignance would render most of the corpse's organs and systems unrecognisable. The necrotic tissue and pathological decay of..."

**_I remember that. It is a standard procedure. The death of a first-class anomaly like this must be investigated thoroughly. I need to record it...this is the last time we will be able to record something like this for future generations, _**Seven explained.

A piece of unidentified piece of flesh flew out from the small cave she now was in. The Nadder moved further away from the dark opening. He lay down and curled himself, resting his damaged body and waiting for upcoming instructions. Before he knew it, he fell asleep.

It was dark when he woke up, body aching all over and itching horribly from healing injuries. He noticed Seven by his side, sitting and looking distantly into the fog between the pillars, her body clear of any dirt or foul substances. He looked at the corpse and found it already in pieces, now looking more like a small mountain of sliced meat than anything else.

He knew that look on her face. It meant more work for him, but that also meant more entertainment.

"Findings?" He asked, standing up and standing on one leg and lowering his head to use other to scratch his neck.

**_I need to leave. Take care of the humans. Save as many as you can. Establish peaceful relationship between dragons and humans. Be discreet. I should return in a few days, _**Seven spoke, outstretching her wings.

The blue-scaled creature became alert in an instant. She had never left his side for as long as his memories reached into the past; even if she was there not physically, she was always in distance of the telepathic connection.

"Keep yourself warm. And don't die," the Nadder said as he moved away from her and took off.

She had waited for him to wake up, just to hear him say that; he knew that she would appreciate that.

She did.

* * *

Toothless had been awake for quite some time. He cracked a tired eyelid to noticed the figure of his precious human partner lying in the bed by his side, breathing as if sleeping. The Fury barely had strength to keep his eye open, so he closed it again. He listened to soothing sounds of fire crackling and people moving outside, talking to each other with tones full of fear and watchfulness. He was not interested in anything which took place outside the room. He did not consider this selfish; he was not aware of such a term and how it might relate to him. He had no reason to feel connected to anything or anybody besides Hiccup. Nothing else mattered.

This thought filled Toothless' mind as he lay in the blankets, made for him when he was had been unconscious. He listened to Hiccup's heartbeat as he usually did to console himself.

Toothless was mainly content after fulfilling his revenge with the stress on _mainly._ He had a long time before him to find his new future and ambition, one that now involved his only clanmate.

Scalgertar's sire was having a loud, vivid discussion with one of those submissive to him about future. The submissive one was posing questions. How would they be able to aid the injured? What about the lack of proper resources to aid all of those in need**?** From what Toothless understood- and his hearing was keen as always- there were only a few healers. Only one of those was fully qualified, the rest were less than a dozen apprentices. It was such a small number of people trying to nurse dozens of burned, injured warriors.

Stoick answered the apprehensive report calmly, "We will do wha' we always did in such situations. Help those most needin' it an' pray fo' th' rest."

The world seemed to freeze after this statement. It appeared so, anyway, as Toothless' eyes opened, scanning the room's interior. The conversing humans were now silent, their bodies motionless, stopped in whatever gesture or word which was about to follow. Yet, the fire flames still swam through the air, and Hiccup's breathing and heart rate subconsciously quickened, responding to what the Fury felt with all his being.

Toothless had to stand up and face the danger. His legs trembled, and his chest exploded with pain due to two broken ribs and the bandage strapped to his side started seeping with red. He was exhausted and would not be able to put a decent fight; however, he had to try.

The door opened and the Nadder marched inside without taking a glance at the two seemingly time-frozen humans.

Toothless limped the short distance to reach Hiccup's bed as best as he could, even though his whole body wanted nothing more than to escape and hide.

The Nadder's claws clinked against the stone floor as he looked above Toothless's shoulder at the injured boy.

_If he moves one step closer, I will attack,_ the Fury decided, his muscles rigid from fear.

At the same moment the battered blue dragon stopped his approach. His seemingly- relaxed eyes slowly slid to meet the green orbs of the jet-black beast. They measured each other in a few, full of tension moments.

The Nadder smiled widely.

**_I was looking forward to meeting you,_** the deeply sonorous growl filled Toothless's mind with pain as it echoed.

The Fury winced and fell to the ground, destroying his brave facade. The Nadder chirped in shortly-punctuated laughter.

"You will get used to it in time," he snarled playfully and took a step closer. He was not startled at the younger dragon slamming his paw against his leg.

"You will _not_ hurt him," the Fury growled with all confidence he could summon.

The towering biped craned and turned his head to regard the Toothless' pain-filled expression better. The previous gleeful look was now replaced by a sterner one, and he let out something resembling a sigh.

"Brave, but stupid. Heh. Younglings these days," he spoke to himself and cocked his head," I cannot think of any way you would possibly be able to stop me from destroying the human hatchling. The more important question you should ask yourself is: why would I come here and expose myself to danger?" He asked, not even blinking or moving.

"You...enjoy causing pain. You treat humans like bones you can play with after a hunt," Toothless growled with renewed strength, his ears filling with his rapidly increasing heartbeats. He remembered how he could only watch as his clan died, slaughtered. He remembered how he was forced to witness the death of his sister And, now, how he had almost lost his only clanmate.

Before he knew it, the pain subsided and his body steadied itself with a hum of energy only he could hear" You will _not_ touch him. I will _not_ serve in your game! You will not take anything else from me!" He almost roared, not knowing anymore what he was saying.

He struggled to his feet as the Nadder closed his eyes.

The Fury's body suddenly fell on the floor again, all energy gone. His glassy eyes stared out emptily as the more powerful creature stepped carefully over him and strode to the front of the bed.

"Don't risk more brain damage for a pointless fight," the Nader chided lightly," Breathe deeply, and do not succumb to your fright. The sensation of emptiness will then leave you quickly," he informed Toothless, lying behind his back.

The instructed dragon did as he was told. He could not move, even though he felt sensations returning to him. But above all, he no longer felt the presence of Hiccup. As the Nadder had predicted, he found himself now able to move himself into an undignified lump of limbs. With the return of physical feeling, he now noticed the sensation of overwhelming tiredness and pain. Before he could stop himself, he let out a whimper.

"It hurts, doesn't it, _Engar?"_ The nameless Nadder queried from what now seemed very far away.

It took a moment more for Toothless to feel his full senses returning. He did not confirm the Master's assumption, as he did not need to. The question he'd just been asked was one that expected no answer- even forbade one. For every purpose it was a statement, and a correct one as well.

The Fury did decide it was probably wise to overlook being called a inexperienced youth as well.

"What did you just do to me?" He decided to ask the most logical enquiry after being made immobile.

"I suppressed your Tagma control," came the immediate, nonchalant response.

Having his basic means of attack and defence taken from him was not something he expected to experience that day.

"I had to make you refrain from using it, since you would not do so voluntarily," the Nadder explained, sounding rather happy with himself as the Fury identified a rustling of covers behind the dragon," You've seem using it too intensely for your level of control and body capabilities. I am slightly impressed that you do not appear to be in agony," he chirped in a short laughter.

Toothless _wanted _to disagree with him. But all his willpower was now engaged in holding back whining in pain. Every part of his body ached horribly. He would not appear even more pathetic than he was already. He would not give such satisfaction to his tormentor.

Yet a small cry escaped his clenched jaw. His heart...it hurt again, in waves of pain he had not imagined were capable of existing.

The Nadder continued chirping happily, doing whatever he did out of Toothless' view," I _am_ familiar with your situation: lack of proper mind-training and a Master to guide you. You probably did not realise that you can't use it endlessly...oversensitivity is one of the side effects of the Tagma overuse. So let that be your first lesson," he announced joyfully.

Toothless barely heard anything. He was trembling from pain and breathing shallowly as the Nadder continued talking.

" From my conversations with this human, Tagma overuse it is what I think happened. You lost part of your tail and, as your kind is not as strong as mine, I do not believe you escaped falling from the sky without any additional damage. So, you plunged full force into healing yourself. It takes you couple of moonrises... and then the human comes along and things get even more intense for your Tagma usage. It eventually leads to, of all things, you blowing out part of your brain. You were trying to heal yourself again, to heal the human and to train him... even though you did not really know how to do it. There was barely any time where you were _not_ using Tagma, no matter how little. Yet you thought that your control of it was developing. You could focus it faster...better."

His monologue ceased as Toothless whimpered loudly, his body shaking violently.

The Nadder stopped whatever he was doing near the bed and strode over to see the Fury's head.

"And your thoughts of control and focus were only an illusion. You indeed can be stronger and better with Tagma usage, but you also have to be aware of how your body reacts to the increased mental energy and stress that comes with it. The cell structure winds up weakening so the Tagma can flow better, meeting less resistance**, **hence the perception that you seem to be in better control of it. But it's an illusion at the cost of your physical body. If you would continue to use it without proper control, the trauma would first cause random bursts of necrosis throughout your body, followed by internal bleeding and then death.

"Not a pretty sight: a drake drowning as blood flows into his lungs." he tilted his head curiously, studying the dragon below him, the sounds of apparent agony intensifying in volume," Cutting you off from the Tagma should have helped you...how much does it hurt now?" He asked.

In response Toothless snapped his jaws, trying to bite the Nadder's leg. The blue dragon merely took a step back, avoiding the bite. This, however, gave him a clear look at the Fury's eyes. They were misted, pupils constricted into tiny vertical lines, blurred with animalistic loss of control. The Fury obviously was hurting. A lot.

With a nimble movement, the Nadder placed a heavy leg on Toothless's neck and pinned him down, restraining him effectively.

"Where does it hurt?" The Nadder asked loudly, through the pitiful whines and moans.

Toothless wriggled intensely, nothing coherent coming from him. Not long after, the black dragon felt a sharp sensation on his neck and something spreading through his nerves all along his body. Then he felt nothing. His screeching stopped, now he only heard his own loud, heated breathing combined with the thudding pulse in his ears.

"Control your breathing _Engar_, concentrate on my voice. Don't you even dare going into shock!" the Nadder ordered sharply, his voice grim." Visualise your breath, inhale, count to three, exhale, accept the pain, do not fight it...inhale...good. Remember the teachings young one."

Toothless followed the instructions, and soon he calmed himself enough to open his eyes.

The Nadder removed his leg, releasing him. "Stand and look at me," he commanded.

The dark-scaled beast did not want to follow-

" Obey, hatchling!"

- Yet he sprung to his feet at the sound of the voice. It was the kind of tone which made your body instinctively answer it. It was clearly a voice of a leader.

He looked up, his quivering eyes meeting the steady, deadly golden gaze of his tormentor. And his helper.

"What happened?" The Nadder asked. His eyes narrowed only slightly when the Fury did not answer immediately.

"My heart hurt," Toothless answered at once. He felt like a youngling being disciplined by an elder. It was rather truthful, considering in the situation he was in.

They had a quick conversation while continuing the staring contest.

"Has it hurt before?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Three cycles."

"Was it always this intense?"

"Yes, in the beginning."

"Do you know what caused it to hurt in the first place?"

"Yes."

"Elaborate."

"It started after I died by having my chest crushed by an enormous claw," Toothless answered plainly. He found himself relishing the confused look on the Nadder's muzzle. The yellowish eyes drilled into him, seeking any attempt of lie or deception.

"Does it hurt now?" The older drake finally demanded.

"No. I can't feel a thing," Toothless answered.

"I numbed all your nerves below your neck. The effect will be active for one sun cycle, and you should seek me out to have it repeated," The Nadder declared in the same _denial-is-not-possible_ tone.

"Can't you-?" Toothless started.

"No! You will not use Tagma for a few sun cycles. Haven't you listened to what I said? Your body was just now on the brink of spontaneous necrosis," the blue-scaled drake growled dangerously.

The younger dragon wanted to ask what "necrosis" was but decided it was best to remain silent.

"I will obey," Toothless said after a few, pain-free heart beats and lowered his head. He was the one weaker here. Questioning the motivation of others was a good activity and reasonable, but it was not safe if the one he wanted to ask was an ancient, powerful warrior who could squash him in one move.

The Nadder huffed through his nose, "I cannot offer any more comfort to you. Your body needs rest, and I am not knowledgeable in medicine other than the basics. I am sure Seven will be more than willing to assess you when she returns," the Nadder chirped, his tone back to the friendly, nonchalant style.

Toothless turned to watch him as he strolled toward Hiccup's bed," I would have looked more surprised, but that nerve numbing technique of yours is bad for making facial expressions," he informed.

"Sarcasm? Such a rare thing in a dragon," the Nadder growled calmly and positioned himself in front of the sleeping form of Berk's newly-minted hero.

Toothless growled quietly. He might have been overpowered, injured and he _might _have been numbed and stripped of power to avoid a slightly unnecessary internal system breakdown; however, he would not call himself One Without Fangs and not growl at anyone going near his Scalgertar.

"Would you stop with the possessive protector act already?" The Nadder gave him a bored expression," Now: observe. This is a demonstration, and I hope one day I will teach you enough that you will be able to do the same," he returned his focus on Hiccup and closed his eyes.

Despite his muzzle being numbed from showing feelings, Toothless felt his eyes widen to the sides of his face plates, and his hindquarters plopped solidly onto the ground. All this because that the large, flat woven material which was used to keep Hiccup warm was now hovering in the air above his unconscious body.

The shock passed as Toothless finally saw the inevitable: the partial lack of the youth's left leg. Most of the flesh and bone below the knee was missing, the stump covered neatly in bandage. The white material was dotted in a slowly seeping red liquid.

Toothless remembered what happened, and he was ready to face the consequences of his actions. He should not feel guilty about it. It had happened too fast to be able to come up with another solution. He had to move fast enough to catch up to the boy...he did not have any other choice. He did the best he could**, **given the circumstances. Hiccup was alive. He was alive, and he had accomplished what he had wanted to do regarding humans and dragons. It had become his life's purpose. Losing a limb was a very small price to pay from such a battle.

Toothless should not feel guilty; he should be happy and satisfied, feel free again and motivated to do anything he ever wanted.

He _knew _that so why did he feel so...empty?

"You do not seem as surprised as I thought you would be," the Nadder cracked an eyelid open to look at him. The black ear-antennas stood up and the Fury attempted to look as dignified as possible.

"I've seen and been subjected to much more than _this_," he clarified, tensing inside. Well, at least, it meant he t_hought_ about stiffening his muscles; whether it was working or not, he could not tell due to the lack of sensation. He remembered what IT used to do with its powers to violate, torture or mutilate its victims. His body tensed neither from anger nor fear. Toothless had wanted that power. He, himself**, **used to wield it, even if only for a short time. If only there was a way to reclaim it.

Hiccup's leg elevated itself, and the bandage unwrapped and soared into the air, right into the flames. Then Toothless could see the full damage of his actions. The stump was swollen and bruised all over its surface, a mixture of yellow, purple and fresh blood. The skin was stretched and stitched together to cover the muscles and bone. It appeared fresh, no older than one sun cycle.

"Don't let the humans wash off these bandages and apply them again. Make them always use fresh ones," The Nadder's instructive voice startled him into reality.

A white piece of material levitated from a basket by the bed," Lick the boy's leg whenever the humans change the bandages...you can do it now," the Nadder said evenly.

Toothless was sure his body shuddered. He knew he would have to touch the injury at some time. Why was he hesitating?

With a quiet growl, he motivated himself to move. He did what the Nadder had advised.

"Be delicate, as much as our saliva accelerates healing, it still can dissolve clotting blood," another instruction came. Toothless grumbled in response, not stopping his work on the amputated limb.

He should not feel guilty. He had done what he had to do. It had been the best course of action, he repeated to himself. Despite his best efforts, he felt powerless against feelings mercilessly attacking him. It was the same as before he met Hiccup. He had to fight them, that was the only reasonable solution in his mind.

"Enough," the Nadder chimed into his train of thought. Toothless obliged, grumbling curses, and sat by his clanmate's resting frame, surveying every move of his more skilled accomplice. The bipedal dragon's muzzle expression changed as his the tongue lolled out and he squinted his closed eyes in concentration. Toothless had seen a similar expression on Hiccup when the youth did something which required focus.

"Your current look is downright absurd," Toothless blurted out the first insult he could think of. The target of his mockery pulled out his pinkish tongue even more between his numerous teeth. The new bandage flowed to the mutilated, elevated leg and started wrapping itself around it.

" Also, your body odour is repulsive," the Fury shot another "helpful" comment, wrinkling his nose. It was true, the smell was horrendous.

The whitish cloth layered itself on Hiccup's leg in a neat and complicated pattern.

"This helps me to concentrate...you should try it sometimes**,** as well...maybe then you would be less inept in Tagma control," The Nadder rebutted negligently, tongue hanging outside the massive jaws.

Toothless felt a wave of shame at this statement. He was used to fighting with stronger opponents. He had to mostly stalk and plan his attack in advance. Sometimes he won thanks to plain coincidence. However, this Nadder...his strength was insanely competent. And then there was also Seven...

"I agree on my smell.. it's a mild side effect of being kept a prisoner for so many decades. Shedding my skin should help," the Nadder finished his thought along with bandaging the human limb. The finished bandage appeared to be folded in a different pattern from the one done by the healer. It appeared secure and done by somebody having obvious experience in this. Then the azure beast stepped even closer, dismissing completely Toothless's warning growl and pressed his muzzle to the youth's forehead. Hiccup breathed deeply and then lay completely still. His skin almost instantly whitened, and his breathing slowed drastically. The Fury instantly recognised the symptoms of the peculiar body state the boy's body showed.

The Nadder opened his eyes, looking at the auburn-haired Chief's son and then retreated from the bed without saying anything.

"Who _are_ you?" Toothless asked him as the Nadder seemed to take his leave.

"Ah, so good you asked! I almost forgot to introduce you to a new, important fact," the Nadder turned abruptly to the crippled dragon and made an elaborate bow," I am the First-Speaker of _Vorgar é Visa_, guardian and protector of this Territory. I welcome you to my Athet and...and," he stopped his speech and looked blankly at the ceiling," What part comes next?...," he spoke to himself conversantly.

Toothless gaped for a moment before composing himself again. He had expected a lot, but not_ this!_

"This Territory belongs to a _Visa_?" The dark-coloured drake asked, stunned," The place is scented with humans...it has humans in it, our kind had no right to be here! There were no Markings! I was around this island during every attack. This is impossible!" Toothless almost roared his conclusion into Nadder's muzzle, who was still lost in thought.

" And you're accepting me into your Athet? I would have to bide to you- and then what about Scalgertar? Is he accepted as well?" the Fury voiced his concerns. He almost was at the point of boiling rage,waiting for response when the Nadder finally looked down at him and blinked.

"I don't know remember what comes next...," he said matter-of-factly with a sigh," To answer you: yes this Territory once had and still has its own Visa. You have met her already. Her name is Seven. She is not here...she's doing whatever she does in her spare time besides annoying me," he said, obviously directing his words to himself," There is no rule against two species coexisting together...I think. There were no Markings because we did not want to be detected, up until now there were only two of us, me and Seven," he actually chuckled throatily as Toothless fought an internal battle not to jump and shatter a certain blue-scaled rooster of a Master to pieces.

"Actually, _Engar_, I do not see a reason not to accept your...uh... Scalgertar," he spat out the name with disgust, his pupils drilling into Toothless' own, all of a sudden the nonchalant attitude completely gone" Also, you do not really seem to have a choice. I am far more powerful than you and, since you are probably the only one here capable of more advanced mental comprehension and mediocre Tagma control**, **it makes you one of the strongest here, but still pitifully weak compared to me... You will yield, _Engar_, won't you?" he stated, still piercing with his eyes.

Instead of a verbal response, Toothless lowered himself in a draconic bow, looking at the ground. His newly-met leader huffed and the cover on the other side of the bed flew over the slumbering boy and settled over him.

"We shall meet all each other soon. For now, you should rest. I am certain you have a lot to think about. Keep yourself warm!" The Nadder chirped happily and thudded to the door which automatically opened for him and closed with a wooden thwack.

Toothless returned to his blanketed nest and lay on it, feeling defeated and confused.

The humans instantly started moving and talking again as if nothing had happened. Toothless, as the Nadder predicted, had much to ponder.

A_ Vorgar é Visa _here, of all places! A Guide, a dragon with superior metal abilities to bring peace and give direction to the whole colony. He did not remember clearly this own region's Guide before IT came. What he could recall, though, were bits of knowledge about this being, the most important position of all in the social hierarchy. A _Visa_ had to be the strongest of all inhabitants. And that led to the simple and very disturbing conclusion that there was something stronger and stranger than the Nadder and possibly on her way here.

Well, that malodorous, cyan-scaled menace would probably speak to him again soon. Toothless try to get as much information as possible.

"...there is also a-uh- problem with dragons, Chief. I recommend t' call a meetin' an' put more light on the issue an' future plans concernin' it," the man speaking to Stoick said diplomatically. The fiery haired warrior analysed the idea for a moment, casting a quick glance at his sleeping son.

"Call fo' a gathering. I'll b' in th' Council Hall soon," he decided.

The fellow Viking bowed and left. Using the short moment of peace, the Chieftain now sat on the edge of the bed. His jaws quivered strongly as he noticed the paleness of his child's skin. He pressed his hand to Hiccup's forehead, checking for temperature. He sighed in a small relief as it felt a bit cooler now to the touch. He put his enormous hand, spotted with reddish burns gently to his cheek and remained still, without any words.

For a moment there was a thoughtful silence.

Then Stoick stood up, the bed frame squeaking, and turned to the door. He now noticed the new addition to his house lying curled on the floor, returning his gaze with its steady, slit pupiled eyes. He approached and kneeled by the injured creature's head.

"Thank ya fo' saving my son...most of 'im anyway," Stoick smiled and gently laid a hand on top of Toothless's head. The Fury did not reject the intrusive touch, moved by the remorse-evoking words.

" Ya bit 'im in th' leg...hard," Stoick continued, gently caressing the dragon's head," There was not much that could be saved, anyway. Ankle an' foot were burned t' coal probably as...as he fell," even without proficiency in reading human emotions from their faces, Toothless knew it was painful for the man to speak about it as it was for him to listen," It had t' b' cut off, so in a way ya did a good thing...he would hav' died if we wouldn't hav' removed it an' if not fo' th' dragons flyin' us back I doubt he would've survived th' two days trip," Stoick spoke calmly.

The Fury broke the trance and jerked his head, breaking the contact and bared his fangs with a silent growl.

The Chieftain turned, not perturbed by the aggressive display, but smiling with satisfaction and respect. He strolled heavily to the doors, grabbing his helmet from above the fireplace.

"It 's good t' know I'm leavin' my son in capable han-uh, claws," he cast a last glance at the reclining guardian and exited the household.

Toothless relaxed and rolled on his back, looking at the rafters. It increased his frustration further. How could humans live in such a closed space, not able to look at the sky whenever they wanted?

So, it was more than Toothless and his clanmate now. Their Athet had apparently increased its number by at least one...two including the missing _Visa_. Soon others might follow. The rest of the dragons _would_ obey the Nadder, they did not possess enough reason to even think of doing anything different. Well, whatever would happen to the others was not Toothless' concern. For all he cared**, **they could all die. However, his developing conscience _was_ touched deeply by the condition of his human. The persistent guilt was vexing his mind, rendering him unable to think of anything else. It also still hurt as he thought about the permanent injury he had inflicted. He felt it, even with a body deprived of feeling of touch...interesting.

On an impulse, he grabbed the comfortable nest-blanket in his teeth and dragged it behind him to the bed's side. He lay as close as he could to it on the floor and rested his head next to the blanketed youth's frame, allowing the sounds of soft breathing to lull him to sleep.

* * *

The Nadder walked in peaceful steps to his next patient, grinning madly to himself the whole time. He did not mind the humans shouting to each other. The Vikings tried their best to ignore the scaled addition to the village life, some wary, some aggressive, shouting and waving their weapons. They were prevented from attacking by those reasonable Vikings who saw no purpose in hurting the creatures who had helped bring them back to Berk, had helped save them.

The Nadder cracked his neck. The enemies had become allies too quickly...the humans would adjust, they merely needed some time for it. The dragons were intoxicated with the human presence, wanting nothing more than to be by their chosen companions, crooning, purring and emitting other...disgraceful sounds. He knew why the dragons, as stupid as they were, would turn from blood-thirsty beasts into mere pets at the crack of the tail**, **and he did not like it.

He had decided to become the First-Speaker, and that meant he now had to regulate and guide this colony's life to their best interest. That also included protecting them and training. Everything pointed to the fact he would be very busy for a long time. In all his long life, he had never encountered such a backward draconic society. However, having a small army of beings with such limited mental abilities did have its cons. Creatures with limited reason were easy to control.

He sent a pulse of energy around him, one to evoke fear, a command to flee. At once, the enormous flock of wings and limbs rose into the air from all the island in a cacophony of terrified roars.

The Nadder cracked his neck again. As weakened as he was, it was amusingly easy. IT certainly had created a perfectly obedient group. Constantly in fear, too stupid to question or understand anything. He stopped for a moment as a thought blinked through his mind.

_If they did not understand the concept of freedom, were they truly ever enslaved?_

He blinked, and the moment of reflecting was gone. He snorted as the wails of his current kin were dampened as they flew further into the distance. They would return when he summoned them, there was no need to bother his mind with it. One problem less, at least.

Some humans were now scratching their heads in wonder of what had just happened. Most, however, ignored it altogether.

A large household came into view shortly. In usual Viking fashion, it had a few totems with sculptured dragon heads on it and some shields attached to the walls. Beside that it was different, as the basement level was made out of actual stone. It also had one angry _Hitesthi Eska _or as Berkians called it, a Monstrous Nightmare**, **guarding the entrance. The Nadder tilted his head, earning another crackle from his neck. The warning growling started as he made two steps forward.

"Brave, but stupid," he commented, looking down at the slouched posture of the bigger dragoness. The Eska was flat on the ground and appearing to press herself into it as the Nadder lowered his head in a studious glare, his grin widening. The eye contact was broken by the red female-dragon who barked and retreated backwards to create some personal space. The Nadder chuckled.

"Brave, but absolutely stupid," he said with a self-satisfying tone. The guarding Nightmare waggled her head and tail, the body language warning of attack if the trespassing would continue.

The wide grin dropped quickly from the First-speaker's jaws as the _Eska_ did not move from the way . His eyes narrowed.

"You barely have made connection with humans, now**,** and all I can see already is a pitiful creature trading its dignity for a scraps of temporary happiness. Yield...," he hissed. He did not raise the volume of his voice, but his slowly shrinking pupils revealed his mood, the threat transparent. The dragoness stopped moving altogether. Her eyes twitched and muscles spasmed, unable to break the eye contact. It lasted only a short moment and,as the Nightmare regained her body control, she immediately peered down, not daring to look upwards.

Partially satisfied, the Nadder huffed, "You are under my protection now, but I will not tolerate going against me. Do it again and I will destroy you," he promised. The dragoness did not flee as the others had**,** and that meant she had a basic understanding of mind-control. She might be useful later.

The Nightmare crooned and crawled carefully to the Nadder, bending her neck and showing her throat in submissive gesture. The azure-scaled Master pressed his white muzzle to it and kept it there for three heartbeats. The _Eska_ was willingly putting her life for a test and accepting dominance, guidance and protection of the stronger one.

The battle-worn drake broke the contact and the dragoness escaped quickly, hiding behind the household of her chosen object of...fascination.

The Nadder made a mental note to have the Nightmare to be the first one to have the obsession about humans tempered. It posed a large problem if not restricted or the dragon not guided through the phases of developing connection to a human counterpart. If the dragon was not well trained mentally, the bond might turn into obsession, and the Nadder did not want to have another Toothless in the vicinity. The Fury had enough self-control to choose injuring himself instead of his pathetically weak biped... well, more precisely monopod now.

Berkians were a special case, and dragons reacting strongly to the Vikings was no surprise. To feel affection towards the soft-skinned human beings was something intrinsic to dragons, and the Nadder hated that truth with raging passion. He_ knew _how dragons reacted to humans, what those effects included**, **and how to combat them.

Another truth was that, for the first time ever, he now had the duty of the First-Speaker and actually taking care of a large quantity of dragons. Taking care of dragons' welfare was quite different from leading them into battle, yet he was confident in his methods. Oh, well. One disaster at a time.

He sent another impulse around him which would cause any unprotected or untrained mind to pause. Making sure he was free of prying eyes, he walked into the house, the doors swinging open at his mental grip.

This time he had to go upstairs**, **carefully weighting himself on a structure not designed for use by deadly beasts. Not to mention the doors to the room with his next patient. He did not mind that the house decorations mostly displayed of every part of draconic body that could be dried or stuffed, from skins to organs. This house seemed very proud of its dragon-slaying tradition and even prouder to show it.

He barely squeezed himself through the doorframe, leaving a few scratches from his scales on the wood.

The bedroom was quite large and so was the bed, one made for two people. Like the other parts of the house, the chamber was decorated in war-related items from weapons, shields to dragon skins. The large bookcase was filled from top to bottom with vellum and heavy manuscripts.

The Nadder's eye was captured by a glow coming from the small table by the bed. The table had a gold-coloured helmet on it. There were also two chairs by the bed, both occupied. In one sat a middle-aged woman, blonde haired, her visage hidden from view. She wore a simple, long article of woven clothing the Vikings called a _binda. _By her side**, **a young men was seated, a red, long sleeved tunic hiding his chest**, **and dark, shaggy hair hiding his scalp.

The Nadder knew that youngling, as he had wanted to kill him a few times in the past. No, killing was a rather harsh thought. The youth had proven himself to be a decent entertainment for a bored Nadder. If the boy was Snotlout, that meant the man who was dying on the bed was his sire. Not that it mattered.

The Master dragon stood up fully, his head almost touching the ceiling rafters and put his whole attention towards the wheezing, charred mess which hardly resembled a human.

The man was positioned on his belly, no clothes on him beside a towel put across his backside out of modesty. The head was covered in bandages giving a different aroma of herbs than the ones used for Hiccup's leg, possibly a special mixture for burns. Even the pleasant herbal aroma could not hide the stench of death. There was no question about it: the man did not have not long to live. If the Nadder didn't intervene, that is.

The man was badly burned. The Nadder was aware that his skills and knowledge were limited at this point. He exhaled and concentrated briefly. A paleness passed over the little bit of exposed skin that still could turn white, and the man's breathing slowed. His heart rate was reaching crazy levels. The body was losing its fight with infection, imminent with such burns. What could strengthen the Viking's immune response? The Nadder did not have any medication he knew, and he was extremely weakened himself. He recalled a few techniques which might help, but he had never seen them performed on humans.

Well, there was one good thing about the situation. He always had somebody by his side to consult.

_Akil**,**_ he mentally commanded, his eye looking at wall by the shut window. He saw the same ghostly man he had seen earlier, a man imposing in size, but lean in build. The ethereal man wore an odd style of armour, a perfect combination of metal and materials long forgotten to humanity. He did not appear real and, in the physical sense, he was not. The only skin visible, that on his face, was white. His eyes were blue, but glossy as those of a corpse. His look was a permanent part of him, the dried blood on his mouth and chin and, the most noticeable element, the burned hole in his chest emerged from the other side of his back.

Despite his injuries, the man looked at the dragon and smiled warmly, tilting his head to the side with curiosity. The Nadder looked at the burnt human in the bed, narrowing his eyes.

_Find me the possible way to save this human**, **_he cracked his neck loudly, the smell of burned flesh making him oddly hungry again, _I'm fully open to suggestions._

* * *

The night was always an ally to those who wanted to remain unseen. At least from those who could not see at night, of course. However, flying in darkness three tracks above the ground, or currently ocean level, with a speed unachievable for any living creature other than a dragon, insured that few would detect the partners.

**_What does your name mean?_** The Imperial soldier asked the dragon he was flying on. They always did this, alone amidst the hollow space, discussing hundreds of things just to pass the time. After so many years of service together, there were now few subjects they had not covered in their late night conversations. It was only natural the topic of names would come up sooner or later.

The air at such high altitudes was always freezing cold and deadly for most living creatures. Dragons were naturally resilient to cold temperatures and extremely adaptable to low-oxygen environments.

**_Every name has a meaning. That's the whole point in having one,_** his draconic companion teased him gently and batted his wings once to maintain velocity and altitude. Their relation, after many years together, was one of gentle friendship, full of mutual understanding and acceptance.

They were both among the most powerful soldiers in the Imperial Special Forces, fighting and training up their ranks to end up doing rounds around empty tracts of ocean without a speck of land. This was the secret mission some of the best of the best had the _privilege_ of doing. The assignment was a simple recon mission: cover the area with five other members of ISF and seek signs of anything attempting to penetrate the water boundaries. They had very specific protocols to follow if such a situation occurred. For the past few years, they had been following from waypoint to waypoint in the pattern they knew by heart, stopping their private conversation every fifteen minutes for the communication check.

The human soldier wiped his hand over the helmet which fully covered his head. The front was smooth and slightly convex with a small protrusion for a nose. It lacked any cultural markings or decorations. The helmet was made to be useful; ornaments would get into the way of air currents and increase the wind resistance. It nicely summed up the main motto by which anything was done in the Empire. Efficiency and utility first.

Like the front of the head protection, the helmet's back side was created out of a few pieces that elegantly and seamlessly fit together. The rest of his body was protected against hazardous elements and temperature by jet-black metal armour, the best the Imperial Army could generously provide. It exceeded anything which humans were crafting these days; most of the items the soldier and his companion were using were not made. They were found.

**_I used the last few evenings to read a book about names. To my surprise, I could not find "Galeo" there. Therein lies my question, my loyal flying cow, if it holds any special meaning? I received you from the Stables already with your name, and to this day I never questioned it. Quite foolish of me,_** the men criticised himself with a bit of humour.

The dragon banked lightly to follow the flight vector, their never-ending circle continuing. He beat his wings once more, the silverfish tips visible for a moment as they lifted up to the rider's head level.

**_You are forgiven. Humans do not put a lot of meaning into names. Names seem as trivial to you as you naming a chair or a rock. My original name is "Gal," and it was given to me by the human auditor who witnessed my hatching. It is the name for the metal which resembles the colour of my scales, _**Galeo explained in the deep mind-voice he used whenever they used telepathy.

**_Gal?_** The rider pronounced, unable to stiff a laugh already escaping his lips**_, It's a good name, but in English it means..._**

**_A slang word for a female. Yes, I became aware of that fact after many people assumed I am a _****she_. That's when I asked the auditor if I could have my name changed to correspond with my... gender better, _**Galeo telepathised in calm voice**_, The auditor said that, in quite a few languages, adding eo at the end of the word would end the confusion._**

**_Did it? _**The soldier asked.

**_Yes. The name should tell as much of the bearer as possible. I might have been born and raised in the Stables, but I know that dragons take pride in their names,_** Galeo communicated in a stern-sounding voice.

**_You were always interested on finding out about your own heritage. Please continue, what you say is very interesting,_** the armour-covered man encouraged. He could mentally feel his friend musing before answering.

**_Draconic names are usually given by the first-speaker or the Guide after the hatchling learns how to speak, and it would be the first word it would use to describe itself. The name consists of three musical notes, as you call them. One is the word the hatchling described itself with, the second describes its clan, the _****Kathet,_ and the third one is the first note of the name of the Guide. The first note describes your heart, the second your pride, the third your allegiance. There is a great pride in having a dragon name. I am content with my human name though. It is original enough and describes me well,_** the silverfish-hued dragon thought-sent.

Now it was the rider's turn to think. The helmet nullified the normally deafening whistle of air, giving him a comfort of silence beside a few blips on his visor as a bird came into the sensor range.

**_Then what about those from the Stables who do not have names? The dragons with strange markings on their muzzles, _**the human asked after some deliberated thought.

**_They rejected their names,_** for once Galeo's voice sounded mournful, **_To do this is to abandon your identity. They found themselves as not worthy of having a name. They acted against their nature,_** Galeo stopped the monologue and banked gently again, following another waypoint,**_ To do this, one must be well mind-trained and have developed emotions. Those ones let those emotions guide them and dominate them. They became a danger to themselves and the Athet and chose to exile themselves for the safety of others._**

**_And those markings are a testimony of it? _**The soldier queried curiously.

**_The markings are carved into the skin of those who let the emotions guide them and killed their kin because of those emotions. It is the only thing which can be considered a crime. They are what you call "pariahs",_** Galeo explained.

**_Humans let themselves to be guided by emotions. Their...my actions as well... are often influenced by them. I've known you for a long time, and it would never have crossed my mind that your kind deals with it in this way. Is that why all the dragons I've met and talked to seem so distant and cold? Don't get me wrong, friend, but you are not the most sociable of creatures, _**the Empire soldier said, patting the silver scales on the long, sleek neck. His metallic glove jingled against them, his metal-draped hand sliding against stone-hard skin. He felt a pang of guilt of not trying to learn more about his faithful companion. He accepted the dragon for what he was**, **and the drake was a great friend and even better warrior. He made himself a vow to learn more about these magnificent beasts when he would be home again from the mission.

Little did he know that he had less than an hour of life left.

**_Emotions are our greatest achievement and our biggest downfall. To possess them means to have power. It is not about rejecting them so much as accepting them...to understand them is to gain knowledge about yourself. To know who you are is the biggest challenge. Achieving it is a goal we strive for,_** the achromatic dragon flapped his wings, his silhouette glistening gently in the moon glow.

The soldier chuckled, his laughter barely audible outside the helmet and white noise of wind**_,_** **_I am sorry, but I was never one to dwell into philosophy, but what would you gain if you would finally understand yourself?_**

**_Power,_** the dragon answered immediately**_, And power brings strength and freedom._**

**_I don't understand,_** the human said.

**_I don't always understand, either, but those are teachings I follow,_** Galeo telepathised with amusement**_, now let me ask you if your name "Kyndal" holds any special meaning._**

The soldier laughed once more**_, Actually it is not my real name...but it holds more honour and meaning than the one my father gave me,_** he added seriously. His companion listened carefully,**_ Kyndal is the name I was labelled with after I got separated from my unit when I still served as a foot soldier and took part in an advance on England's southern shore. Normally, they would have crossed me off as lost in battle, and it would have been the end of me as I was injured and hiding in the woods. It was Amyna who had gathered a small unit of people who were not indifferent to my fate. They were my friends, and they searched at their own risk, heading deep into enemy territory. For every purpose, they were considered deserters, and death awaited them if they would return...empty handed. They found me by some twist of faith. Apparently the name of the valley and river was called Kyndal by the locals, and it stuck to me afterwards as a blessing of good luck._**

**_I enjoyed learning about your name._****._ But I must recall the name "Amyna". She is the woman you fancy, and I will encourage you again to join with her, _**Galeo suggested, as he had done many times before.

**_Human life is not so simple as a dragon's my faithful warrior. I have a wife and a beloved son. I cannot leave them. Let us not speak about it for tonight, _**Kyndal announced, his head turning to the right, where the moon hung.

**_So be it,_** the dragon accepted, concentrating once more on the routine. The night, as usual, was peaceful; the ocean's reflective surface from such a height appeared to be frozen and static. Despite the monotonous background and repetitive duty, the pair was always ready to fulfil their duty, always vigilant and sharp as a razor's edge.

It was time for their abilities to be tested.

The order came to Kyndal as a ciphered word which appeared on the bottom of his helmet screen, eight, small and long, red-coloured runes. His hand immediately darted to the metallic holder by the saddle and tapped the surface. A tube tip popped out and the man hoisted it to his hand level. It appeared to look like a bar with the cord attached to its end. The symbols on the cylinder glistened for a moment before disappearing. Kyndal memorised them and compared them to the sequence he received. They matched.

**_Status One in motion. Proceed with the sequence,_** he ordered letting go of the tube, which was pulled back to the holder by the cord.

**_Proceeding,_** Galeo stated shortly and he banked sharply. He started lowering his altitude towards the rendezvous point. At the same time, twelve objects separated themselves from the black plates serving as protection behind his saddle, entirely covering the sides of his chest. They flew up and encircled the dragon, spreading around him in equal length between each other.

**_Shielding at standby,_** the dragon informed in emotionless tone.

Kyndal was busy communicating with the superior officer, for the first time hearing their mission's objective. After the transmission was over, he cursed quietly after he was sure he would not be heard.

**_Two minutes to the meeting point,_** Galeo mind-sent, the items around him resembling black pieces of small triangular matt metal remained on their position, **_What's wrong?_** He asked, sensing a small hesitation in his partner's mind.

**_I don't like it, Gal,_** Kyndal sent, using the last bit of private time they had, **_There were officers like us before with the same mission, all with high military distinctions. I can tell that this thing has been going on much longer than we realise._**

**_We have had this conversation before. Your guess is as accurate as mine, Fire Dancer. You must've learned something new. What is it?_** Galeo asked coolly.

**_The mission objectives I received still qualify this operation as nothing more than a scavenger hunt. We will dive after an object which plunged into the water seven minutes ago. We'll follow it and, after arriving at the point, return with as many artefacts as possible,_**Kyndal telepathised hurriedly_._

**_Point?_** Galeo asked his friend.

**_No other instructions were given,_** the rider answered. There was a moment of silence as the dragon analysed what the human told him and followed his pattern of thought.

**_You are worried of going somewhere without being adequately informed?_**

**_We are doing this. But why is the secrecy maintained? I will tell you why. What is down below the sea is worth more than our loyalty towards the Emperor and our years of service put together. What I am worried about, Bright Eye, is that it might be bigger than we- and what can be bigger than six top military officers with dragon companions equipped with technology this primitive world should not know exists? _**Kyndal asked, starting to sense the other members of his unit.

**_If it would make you feel more at ease, there are not many things which can go up against us... how does that sound to you?_** Galeo thought-sent the question, clearly not as concerned as much as his bipedal friend.

**_Like very cliché famous last words?_** Kyndal quipped a rhetorical question but then chuckled, patting the dragon's neck hard**_, As somebody much smarter than I said: some things you can understand in a speed of an eye blink, and some should remain a mystery forever._**

**_I could not put it better myself,_** Galeo admitted, for the first time that night revealing the shadow of a smile.

* * *

Imagination played tricks on him. It was dark and almost absolutely silent. However, the darkness was the thing which penetrated him the most. He did not know what factor could be attributed to that. It could be that he was now deep below the water surface or that he was using an untested technology to protect him and his dragon from being crushed by the water pressure. They activated a shield which appeared in the form of transparent wall refracting the light as a thick pane of glass. The twelve sentinels hummed quietly as the stored energy as the protective cocoon continued its function. The other human and dragon soldiers also had the same equipment and held their position near him, waiting.

He was used to dealing with death, but he hated uncertainty,and there were too many items on his current mental list which were not under his control.

**_Your nervousness is unsettling. Do you need assistance in breathing exercises?_** Galeo asked with genuine care.

**_Thanks, but you know I do not like the mind-altering techniques your draconic kind is so fond of,_** Kyndal answered, the uneasiness not leaving his mind.

The dragon quickly thought about what to do. He needed his friend to be concentrated so he could firmly. Comforting humans was a mystery to him, even whilst dealing with a warrior who, by any standards, did not require many warm words, if any at all. One thing worked well on both species respectively: simply saying what was on your mind.

**_I always find it amazing how humans can deal with themselves without applying mind-control techniques in their lives. You can truly embrace a full spectrum of emotions without succumbing to them. Some dragons find it as weakness, but I always considered it as more of a...charming quality of your species,_** Galeo telepathised his small confession.

The armoured hand pat his neck, as it had uncountable times before.

**_Your calmness in any situation is the best remedy for my permanent queasiness, my friend. I feel better now,_** Kyndal assured, dealing with a situation as he believed a wise human would. Taking it for what it was and, most importantly, not being alone when facing it.

* * *

The research facility was as she remembered it to be. She had been here such a long time ago, so many lost centuries with constant worry about the future. The last remnant of the old power was gone. It was what she believed, it was what she hoped. Her old life had taught her not to hope often, as the disappointment would hurt less.

Her fears were confirmed, and the disappointment hurt a lot, but not as much as the plasma shot which suddenly slammed against her side, obliterating her wing and most the skin and muscles on that side. She crashed through the wall and three more such barricades before her body came to a stop.

The enemy had appeared suddenly, breaking through the facility's internal defences- a series of turrets and doors alike- with ease. Seven had never installed more of the mechanical protectors, as nobody was supposed to know about the existence of this installation. Even though her life was in danger, she ironically still considered such questions.

She got to all fours from the rubble which had fallen with her. She was in one of the corridors, tall and rectangular in shape, illuminated with a gentle blue light coming from two lines at each of the walls.

The attackers did not stop, even for a moment. Just as she barely got on her fours, the same man who had damaged her so extensively dropped from the hole in the white ceiling. He charged at her with an opened hand, the air wavering in front of it as he did so.

She had to avoid that man's strike at all cost. She did, but in the process her limbs were reduced to three and one wing. Her ribs were now showing on her mutilated side through the burned flesh and muscles. Yet she still had a chance. She had already managed to kill the one who was barking orders and his dragon, and then injure two more soldiers. However, when she killed the leader she had left herself exposed for a fraction of second, and now she had ended up with part of her body missing.

Seven launched herself through the hole she had come from back to the level where most of the team was located. As expected, the moment she showed herself, something struck her hard at the side of her head**, **cracking her skull and destroying her left eye. Her body smashed against the corridor's white wall with an audible splatter, leaving it completely covered in red as she slumped to the floor.

Before she could think again, the same man who had followed her jumped out from the hole and got ready to charge. He stopped as he saw the state of his enemy. The human wore black armour completely covering his body. Two lines of red dribbled from cracks in the metal covering the man's chest, souvenirs of Seven's initial attack.

To the right of the soldier's side stepped a silverfish-coloured dragon. He moved with serpent-like grace despite a heavy utility belt and partial armouring. The most distinctive part of the creature was his eyes. They were white with a just slightly-darker pupil. They were locked onto Seven's remaining eye as she seemed to be capable of nothing more than laying down and die, a pool of blood expanding from her massacred frame. The other members of the team had surrounded her the moment her body hit the wall, and it appeared that they awaited the orders of the man by the white-eyed dragon.

At that moment, Seven started losing her vision due to blood loss. She heard the quickened breathing of humans and dragons and the clicking of medical equipment of one of the soldiers who now had started assisting the injured. These warriors were undoubtedly skilled and extremely well trained. Seven did not stand a chance from the start, and now she came to one conclusion. She had to lose to win.

She heard the steady footsteps of the leader, heavier than before due to the weapon he now carried. He stopped by her head. A loud click informed her that her body was about to be even more re-arranged. This was going to hurt. She took a last breath and relaxed.

There was a deafening bang. A bullet drove a hole into her skull and through her brain. It then slammed into the wall, forming a cavity the size of a human's fist.

* * *

Kyndal's helmet came off with a soft hiss**, **and he placed it by his semi-sitting body. He leaned against the corridor's wall, letting himself be examined and attended to. A fellow officer helped him take off his chest-piece, which soon clanged softly against the rest of the shielding gear. He ran his fingers across his forehead, sweeping his dark-brown hair away**,** as it had been plastered to the skin because of the tightly fitting helmet and a healthy amount of sweat.

Most of the remaining team was standing by the body of the...creature. Two pairs of soldiers stood - one at the front of the corridor and one at the back, scanning the space for any more surprises. Each had a dragon between them who surveyed the space vigilantly. There were two bodies, already covered in dark sheets, lying to the side, one human in shape beneath the material and one much larger with a small part of black wing showing from beneath it. Two, wide paths of red led from the corpses to the original site where they were killed. A singular, burned line ran across the wall as if something had cut through it and melted anything it sliced.

Kyndal remembered how its path had intercepted with Number One's head and his companion's torso.

The creature had not lunged itself at them at first. It had stood at the far away end of the passageway and done nothing. The moment the Number One gave them orders to fire and shouted "Make **absolutely **sure it stays dead," had seemed to trigger something in the white creature.

It had run to them, ignoring the shower of metal and explosions in its need to reach the Number One soldier and kill him with something Kyndal had never witnessed before. He had been the first to let go of his weapon, as it appeared to have little effect, and switched to more potent abilities. He should not have released his Tagma in such a contained space, but he had not seen any other choice. The creature had then been slammed through the walls, and he had followed. It had escaped him with one limb less. He swore he had never fought with anything which could take so much punishment and yet there was no sign of it stopping even for a moment. No fatigue, no sound of pain, nothing which would tell you that you were actually doing any damage to it. and those eyes... such expressive eyes and yet so emotionless.

He made absolutely sure that the creature was dead. The bullet that he had shot through its skull was not the only one he had released into that monster. He had ordered the medical officer to check for vitals and, only after getting a confirmation of death, did he let his team get a short break before continuing their mission. The death of their comrades and the unexpected monster encounter would not change that. Retreat was only permitted if everybody else was dead ; the last surviving member should escape to inform about defeat and the details which led to it.

_Those were always those small details which you did not see at first, dots which you did not connect fast enough. They came back and bit you hard in the ass with vengeance_, Kyndal thought, the medical officer still working on his wounds. He closed his eyes, recalling every detail of their mission which he might have missed, every scenario had encountered. His unit was supposedly trained to deal with anything. Apparently, their lecturers and trainers forgot about this scenario or, definitely, withheld information about it. Their team leader had known what was going on and now, that only source of information was permanently silent. He would check the slain Number One's equipment for anything which would tell him what had really been going on here.

Kyndal was now the leader, and he was responsible for the mission's success. He fought with millions of thoughts at once. At least he would not have to fight for much longer. He was right about one thing: it was these small details which doomed them.

The group securing the creature's body was deeply into quiet verbal and, much louder, mental chatter, discussing what had just happened. They did not notice the short spasm on one of the creature's legs.

Kyndal opened his eyes, finishing his mental planning and reducing his physical pain to tolerable levels at the same time. Not wanting to look at the reflective surface of the front of the helmet he cast his eye downward.

He stopped as he thought he saw something moving on the assisting soldier's utility belt. He looked absent-mindedly at the three grenades kept secured with magnetic locks, each as big as half of his palm, circular in shape. His attention was locked on the one with red belt around its mid-section.

That plasma grenade was not the one to be tempered with. The activation method made it impossible to explode on its own. To detonate it, it would have to be removed from the magnetic lock and be pressed with the dinger at the top, which would release the lock in the middle ... and then its halves would have to be rotated to properly actuate it. The grenade would emit a high-toned, sharp _Pik_ a half a second before-

The explosive device Kyndal now peered at gave out a singular, loud _Pik _sound. It was accompanied by an eerie chorus of _Piks_ from every plasma grenade that humans and dragons in the corridor was wearing.

Without a thought, Kyndal's hand shot out, grabbed the sphere, and threw it away. Only one more creature reacted in time. Galeo felt the surge of panic from his friend. With typical calmness, he did what he had to. He jumped as far away from others as possible, as five grenades he had in one of containers on his side let him know with cheerful _Piks t_hat they were about to kill him.

The twelve Sentinels, the triangular devices Galeo had used before to protect himself from the water pressure, levitated from his sides as quick as a bullet. They created a net around Kyndal and the medical officer helping him. The field-construction time for the field was 0.18 seconds. They had 0.15 seconds left.

Galeo used the remaining time to eye his partner and sent a feeling of calm encouragement to him. There was no time for a message, no time to say farewell,as they were rarely given on the battlefield.

The grenades exploded.

The dragon would have been pleased to know that the last feelings he left behind him were worth more to his human than any words he would have said.

* * *

Kyndal coughed out blood, trying to breathe regularly, his face against the floor. He was still conscious, even if only barely. He was alive, he could still fight.

"Number Two, can you operate?" He asked in a raspy voice and coughed a few more blood droplets, lifting himself onto his hands and knees.

"A-Affirmative," He got response by his side from a young, shaky male voice.

"That's nice. And this is your new order. Get away from here and inform the Headquarters of our loss. I am ordering you to retreat," Kyndal said huskily, looking up.

The air around them had a neon-blue colour full of electric discharges, filling fully the constricted space. The cloud of plasma slowly dissipated. The shielding had worked in time. However, when the first shockwave arrived, the field had still being created. Instead of blocking it completely, the field only dampened it. Kyndal got stuck with bad luck. His helmet and chest-piece was missing. With them, he could have take the implosion's power without any injuries, like the medical officer by his side. The armour might not be able to block everything, but it could take heavy punishment. But it had not been there when Kyndal needed it.

He now could tell his right hand was broken and useless, and he did not want to think about what the air pressure had done to his internal organs. At least his brain still worked.

"The temperature outside is t-too high for me to escape," the newly appointed Number Two noted, quite accurately, his voice shaking a bit less.

The walls had literally melted, now many holes penetrated the thick material they were made of.

The calming blue light on the walls furthest away from the explosions' effect changed from blue to red, and a few panels opened from on the ceiling. Now there was a loud noise of the air being sucked out. The blue mist left quickly the surroundings, and Kyndal could see what encircled him through the glassy field. He searched for any sort of mental connection outside his shield, any prick of life. He let Tagma flow inside his body, becoming aware of more things than his natural senses allowed him to.

He realized, other than his new Number Two, nobody from his team was now alive. No one.

He could see something red and fleshy squirming by the wall. He realized what it was, and he had to act fast.

"I'll lower the temperature. Now it's up to you, soldier. Escape. Report. Stay alive," Kyndal lifted his left, workable hand, his index finger outstretched, and made a quick gesture in the air, as if writing something with it.

Visibly, nothing happened, but for anyone who could detect Tagma, his body started emanating power. It was directed outside the shield, and the heat immediately disappeared. Not dissipated or dispersed nor moved somewhere else. Disappeared.

"I need a weapon," Kyndal said simply and calmly.

The young soldier immediately gave him the gun he held across his chest. Soon after that, the glossy surface disappeared and the sentinels flew away from Kyndal, controlled now by the escaping Number Two.

"May you be protected from harm," the now solitary de facto leader uttered the traditional blessing, trying not to look at what remained of his comrades. He had to use his will not to distract his gaze to look for what remained of his draconic best friend.

He did not feel anger or desire to violently retaliate. Instead, he let the years of training guide him.

The sinister creature was levitating in what seemed to be an oval, off-white, barely transparent field. Kyndal could sense the power coming from it.

Aiming the gun with his good hand, he pointed it at the field. He could see the silhouette of something in it, appearing more and more draconic in appearance behind the curtain of energy.

His armoured fingers pressed the trigger on the handle, sending ammunition out in rapid succession. The bullets impacted the shield, yet their course was altered as they appeared to slide through the outer layer, leaving white trails on its surface. They never penetrated the beast, instead hitting the wall behind the air-suspended creature.

Kyndal lowered his weapon as he ran out of the ammo. The short tip was smoking red after such extended use. It was, as everything they used, a paragon of utility combined with deadly force. From the tip to the arm to the butt, the weapon was as long as the man's arm. The most distinctive quality about its appearance was the simple, rectangular shape with a small, elongated and downwards armrest.

And yet, for all its utility and perfect form, it had done no damage.

_So much for conventional weapons,_ Kyndal concluded throwing the gun to his side. Suddenly, the two, massive door halves emerged from the aperture in the wall, behind and in front of him. It was a detail he had noticed on entering the area, but did not pay attention to.

The gates locked themselves with loud click as mechanisms inside came alive, forming a permanent seal, trapping him inside.

His objective was now to buy as much time as possible. A more optimistic assessment might have him destroying the enemy and leaving on his own. Kyndal was not an optimist. He realized he could only dismantle the enemy, not kill it- as, apparently, the thing could not be killed.

He made a quick gesture with his finger in the air once more and lifted his hand to the side, palm open. For a moment nothing happened, but then the air started wavering around him, the effect strengthening with every passing second. The wall started melting again around where he stood, his body barely visible as the air waved furiously around him, distorting his appearance into a dark blur.

Kyndal could utilise barely one-fifth of his power in his current state. Yet, he felt strangely confident. He _would_ hit the shield, it _would _break and he _would _win! Nothing could stop him. He was not called "Fire Dancer " for nothing!

The shield dropped at the same moment, as Kyndal fell again to his knees, the air around his body quickly changing back to normal. His eyes were barely open and his knee protectors hissed as they touched the heated surface of the floor, digging slightly in the muddy texture, superheated by his ability . He instinctively looked at the gauntlet on his right, limp hand. It had a small, quickly pulsating red light on it. So that was it.

It was one of the sensors which detected the amount of oxygen in his blood. It was a standard precaution for every flier, to know when it would be dangerous for him when flying on high altitudes or when the suit was leaking. His eyes glanced up at the panels, which slid down from the ceiling before and were pumping the air now.

Of course. Sealing the doors was meant to quicken the effect. If he could have thought rationally for longer, he would have figured it out. That the creature somehow knew the design of the grenades better than the Empire soldiers did and had used a light telekinesis which could not be detected. After all, they had not paid attention to its body, since they had thought that it was dead.

That attacking the Number One soldier was intended to cut the rest of them off from the sole source of information how to destroy this beast.

That the panels were not used as an emergency precaution only to control the environment, but also to deprive the survivors of oxygen, resulting in changing their way of thinking and behaviour into reckless and unstable.

It would not have worked on those who had a suit on, as they had installed oxygen enhancers. The creature had known it and chosen a way which would possibly work best on wounded, armour-less humans who had to breathe deeply and quickly because of wounds and battle fervour.

Kyndal would have figured it out if he would have been able to think rationally. But the creature had taken care of that with utmost efficiency.

Instead, he laughed loudly as the white creature lifted itself to all fours and slowly approached him in graceful, light steps. It had four perfectly-working legs now instead of three and one amputated limb.

Kyndal barely noticed anything anymore, the little details escaped him completely.

Through guffaws, he observed the creature. He had to admit it looked beautiful, even with dried blood covering a lot of its body. It appeared draconic and, from afar, it might have been mistaken for one.

Beneath the shining bloodstains, it had a pristinely- white, scaleless body, four, slender legs, each with five appendages shaped almost like human fingers ending with long claws. A long, silky tail swayed behind it as it took steps with feline grace. One wing was unfurled, the membrane thin, but not transparent. He saw something growing from the other side. For the first- and the last time - he saw how the creature's regrew its limbs, the muscles twisting on the rapidly regenerating bone. Pristine white skin swiftly grew and covered it, and soon the whole wing was newly formed and flawlessness.

The creature flapped both wings once; droplets of blood spattered from the creature's hide and covered the hall's sides. The wings folded to its side perfectly, the edges of them barely visible.

Its white muzzle was long, roughly merging into a circular head devoid of any horns or additional body parts so common to dragons. The snout ended with two slits serving as nostrils.

Its head was close to Kyndal's and he giggled without any reason as the last thing to turn back to normal was a missing eye. The empty eye socket filled up with some sort of viscous liquid, and some of it dropped to the floor. The drops fell towards the floor then transformed into dozens of macabre-looking eyeballs, forming some sort of grim flower made of vision organs before they hit the floor, turning again into liquid splashes.

The creature's destroyed eyeball continued to regenerate in the socket and was almost ready to function again. The last details filled in, and now a perfectly healthy, completely healed dragon-shaped being just looked at the doomed warrior, not doing anything to kill him.

Kyndal, not aware of what was doing, lifted his hand to the creature and held it up to its muzzle.

The creature again held still and allowed the contact. He could not feel its skin through his armoured glove, the red "Danger" light on it blinking so rapidly it was almost continuous. Kyndal gave out a last childish smile, and his body dropped to the ground.

If he had been able to catch little details, he would have thought about those, big, red eyes his enemy possessed, looking remarkably like a human's eyes. He would have thought that the liquid which still dripped from its now-healed eye formed a glistening path as though the creature were crying for him.

* * *

The clay bottle of reasonable proportions wobbled and dropped from the desk onto the oak plank floor. It did not break but produced an audible sharp _crack_ which startled one of the two occupants of the room from his shallow sleep. The room was spacious for one inside a ship, fully furnished with a single, barely-used bed and two large bookcases permanently attached to the floor with a plethora of books on them. The walls were densely decorated with maps, each lined with arrows and colourful marks. The room had a single, circular glassed window, not letting in any light, as the night still lingered before the coming morning.

The biggest source of light in Braden's cabin was a holographic device he had left on his desk, flashing in a steady light a medical file of a certain and very special girl. The man had stopped the image from playing before he passed out with his head on the table from both tiredness and a large amount of Berkian mead consumed.

The man huffed now and bent in his chair to retrieve the mead flask. He looked for a moment at the sculptured Monstrous Nightmare's head on the wax identification tag hanging from the cord tied around the bottle's neck, and he snorted.

Then he looked at the device before him and his eyes narrowed, glistening in the dark. He touched the holographic contraption's surface and tapped it quickly three times, turning it off. The room turned dark and the chair squeaked loudly as its occupier lifted himself from it and almost stumbled as the ship wobbled gently against the waves.

Flames flickered to life as Braedan used a match to first light up his pipe and take the long, satisfying breath of smoke. He then used the match to light the oil lamp.

As he puffed out the white smoke, the door opened. He was surprised, as he was not expecting any visitors, and everybody knew not to disturb him when he rested.

He certainly did not expect a visit from an Empire elite soldier, armoured from head to toe in a suit he only saw on schemes he managed to steal. The soldier held a rapier low to the ground, but he did not move.

Braedan knew to whom that rapier belonged, and he expected to find the owner no longer alive. The blood on the weapon might have been an indication of his crew member status as well.

"What do you want?" Braedan asked in English, as that was now the most commonly spoken language in Europe along with French, steadying his voice as he could.

He was glad that he always wore long sleeved clothes and was able to hide his bracelet. If the soldier knew with whom he was dealing, Braedan was sure he would not use a humane method of assassination.

The soldier took a step forward, the light dancing on his dark armour.

"I require a circular device, two times bigger than my fist with elaborate markings on its surface, are you familiar with what I am describing?" Came a reply in perfectly fluent English from the faceless soldier, his voice slightly muffled by the helmet he wore.

Braedan thought quickly. The soldier wanted a thing Braedan had rarely used before, one used for communication. He recognised the threat the soldier represented, and he would not come out alive if he tried to combat the soldier.

In direct confrontation, that was. Fortunately, real life proved that fairness in fight was as common as dragons which could turn invisible.

There was a short hiss as something moved swiftly through the air, and the soldier stopped his movement. After a moment his body dropped to the floor with a loud thud, head rolling, separated from the body.

Braedan let out a nervous breath and then greedily sucked on the pipe again.

"Took you long enough, Balerdargur," he said accusingly to the dark room, wiping sweat from his forehead.

The air shimmered and a purple dragon appeared in a soft crackling of electricity along its hide. The blindingly- white surges of energy stopped, and the dragon shook itself as a dog which had just emerged from water. The dragon looked at the human with large, yellow eyes.

The dragon walked on its fours and was slightly shorter than the pipe-smoking human. The beast's frame was slender and lightly muscled, a normal build for the female of its species. Her muzzle was long, as well as her neck. The whole body was covered in what appeared to be originally-formed scales standing along the whole body. Each, from the small ones at the muzzle to the long ones growing along the spine, were shaped like elongated leaves with sharply ended tips. Even the long tail ended with similar-looking bone structures which made the tip appear like the end of a spear. The wings were not tucked against the hide, but slightly away from it to leave the room for the standing scales. They were long and seemed to be separated into two sections, One higher and one smaller and lower.

All the scale spines clinked as they lowered themselves against the skin with a click. Now the dragoness no longer appeared to be an enormous, short-spiked hedgehog. Her whole body had a chromatic shade of light purple which transformed into deep blue at the edges of the visible scale-clad skin. Two, short ear-antennas shot up as she smelled the air and galloped outside the room.

Braedan soon followed, reaching beneath his jacket and pulling out a green crystal. He sharply rolled up his sleeve, revealing the bracelet. He placed the crystal into the socket and the small mechanism locked it in place. This time he would be ready.

As he feared, the path leading from his cabin was covered in bodies. All killed cleanly, with professional precision. The soldier had not used Tagma, as it would make him detectable. This was all due to his natural abilities and the testimony of his skill. Braedan's crew might not have been seen as warriors, but each of them knew very well how to defend themselves.

**_Can you smell any more of them!_** Braedan mentally shouted, sensing the dragoness' exact location above him at the upper deck.

**_No,_** came a short response in a raspy but gentle voice.

Braedan did not lunge himself out of the door to the deck but waited on the stairs by the trap-door as Balerdargur made a quick recon, once more invisible to the eye.

He entered the deck after receiving confirmation of lack of potential danger. A few lanterns hung by the ropes and from the masts, giving the deck an orange glow. Blood appeared almost black in that light. More bodies of his crew, their eyes open without fear or shock painted on them. They had not been aware they were dying. It gave Braedan a bit of relief that they felt as little pain as possible. Some of them Braedan had known almost from the time he began his crazy adventure.

He knelt over one of the corpses and gently closed the eyes of his first officer and the best navigator he had pleasure working with.

"Rick...," he said softly, stroking the older man's hair away from his eyes, his beloved parrot lying nearby in a heap of bloodied feathers, lifeless.

It hit Braedan suddenly.

_Radzik!_ He thought furiously, snapping to his feet. The rest of the crew must have been sleeping. He had to sound the alarm and assess the situation correctly! However, before he ran to the bell by the middle mast, he felt something emerging from the darkness. His heart skipped a beat and his pipe dropped from his numb lips. He knew that feeling and his mind flashed the memory.

"No," he uttered numbly. He was informed of the possibility that this day might come. A feeling of nothingness enveloped him, although the dragoness was calm and appeared in a shower of sparks by his side looking emotionless at what was about to come, her scales clicking against her skin as they stopped being used.

Soon, there was a soft rustle of wings and a white creature appeared from the dark miasma and landed soundlessly on the deck. The wings immediately folded as the newcomer regarded the post-slaughter surroundings showing as little emotions as the purple dragoness by Braedan's side.

Braedan knew the deal he had made many years ago, and he had to abide by the rules which were set up before him.

The creature lowered her red-eyed head and no longer surveyed the bodies. Instead, the creature concentrated on the man and the dragon by his side.

The white being's body was pure white without any sign of blood or any other remains of the previous combat.

**_She smells of blood and death,_** Balerdargur announced calmly, dispelling the illusion of innocence, not trying to approach, although not acting defensive as she cocked her head to the side.

Braedan come before the snow-coloured newcomer. Getting over the shock quickly, he clenched his jaws tight. It could not have been a coincidence that the night's appearances were a coincidence.

"I'm listening, number...?" the trader said darkly in English, as it was apparent he had to be the first one to talk.

"Seven," the dragoness said, emulating a female human's voice perfectly. The talking dragon did not appear to surprise the merchant at all. He had seen it before.

"So what is going to happen now?" Braedan asked, putting on his neutral face.

Seven did not even blink for the entire time. It took a lot of self-restrain not to stop looking into the creature's bizarre red eyes. They were more intense than any Braedan had seen before. Yet, at the same time, they carried no expression in them, as if they were a painted mosaic of a genius artist who wanted to show how the perfect eye would look like and succeeded only in appearance, a brief peek into heartless flawlessness.

"You have been called to service. We need you to travel back to the island known as Berk and remain there until my arrival," Seven instructed in a melodious, tranquil voice.

Braedan's face remained emotionless. He did not ask any questions, which seemed obvious at that time.

Almost no questions.

The silence stretched and he bent to retrieve his pipe. As he tasted the wood in his mouth, he turned back, tapping the tip of his nose.

"I need to ask one thing. How was the Empire's soldier able to locate me?" He asked, suspecting the nature of answer.

"I sent the coordinates of your location to him as he was escaping, trying to locate nearest active communication device. The standard procedure," Seven clarified, still not blinking or moving.

Braedan raged in fury. Inside his mind.

"How did you knew the coordinates and why did you do it?" He questioned in a tone which sounded very pleasant, as though the two were having a picnic on a summer day.

"The device on your right forelimb gives me a permanent check on your position. I directed him here as I would not have caught him. His signal already disappeared. He thought he received coordinates from his Headquarters. He obeyed them without question," Seven said, answering the query Braedan wanted to pose.

He was sure he would question the logic of such order. Going away from safety and invade the unsuspecting trader's ship. Still, why had the soldier killed everybody on his way?

"Why did he kill everybody on his way?" The captain asked.

"It is very highly probable that, when he approached your vessel, his sensors identified the energy coming from one of the devices you used. The current punishment for possessing such technological value is death," Seven clarified in conversational voice.

Braedan had forgot to turn off the hologram, since he had gotten dead drunk last night. Even if the possibility of anyone being able to use it against him was astronomically small, it happened.

So it was a shared blame for death of his crew. He was careless, but he had also used by one of the Keepers to solve her problem.

He did not care anymore about asking anymore questions

He wanted the cursed dragoness, or whatever creature she was, to leave and let him carry the mission she assigned him with. He had to check how many of his crew survived. He wanted to leave when he saw Seven blinking once.

"You may use whatever technology you would find on the one you have slain...I share your pain in loss," she said, her expression as if carved in stone, changeless.

"Just leave, Keeper," he said tiredly, turning away.

Balerdargur looked longer at Seven, even as she flew silently into the darkness, following her even in the darkness with her night-seeing eyes as the bell rung sharply through the deadly silence.

From thirty two souls onboard, twenty one survived the night encounter. All of them did not have the night shift and had been sleeping, the ship's doctor and the girl Braedan had rescued**, **as well.

It was now late morning and a very pleasant day to sail. It was after the sea funeral. The bodies had been offered to the water, shrouded in spare sailcloth pieces. The captain looked into the distance, not talking to anyone.

The deck was now clean after a thorough brushing and washing, All evidence of the previous night was gone. Knowing his crew looked up to him for orders and moral support, he turned to them with hard face.

They were going back to Berk.

* * *

A few days of sailing away Amyna felt restless. Her chest felt heavy with a pained feeling of loss she had never felt before. Her worries, though, quickly disappeared as a small, yellow head of her dragon tucked to her side.

"After this assignment we will have two weeks of furlough," she said happily and lifted Melleth's muzzle, showing him a paper map she studied," See where we are going?" She asked the dragon. She did not get any response, only an annoyed hiss as the little drake wanted to go back to enjoying a combination of his snuggling and her scratching," This is where we go next," she said, pointing at one of the island in a cluster around it with a very small letters beneath it. Berk.

* * *

**Here we are. For the first time something fully original.**

**As everything in my story, everything, or most will be explained. Just accept things as they are for now and go with the flow. I would love to explain it faster, but I can only write this fast. For now I can explain simply that there is a dangerous mixture of futuristic equipment in not so developed world. Why? How? Everything will be revealed in time. Treat this chapter as the opening to the new story. If you need to remind yourself about particular character, Braedan, Seven, Amyna or Kyndal, reread chapter with them in it. I know it is the pain in the rump for you to remember so much at once, but I've connected a lot of plot lines in this chapter and answered few questions... For example Braedan liked to talk to himself. Amyna had a feeling that she saw her friend for the last time. We know how Seven looks like and that her look was described before... and a few more things.  
**

** I tried to simplify my style a bit, put less descriptions and not so much insights. I hope it wasn't too confusing. I am sure there are some mistakes lingering in the text, therefore let me know if you will find any. Lastly, I am not sure if I should change Fantasy genre this fic is under into Sci-fi. If you are curious about the effect of oxigen deprivation on the organism, google hypoxia and Altitude and Human Body. I remember bits of knowledge from my cabin crew training. Happy research. 'Til next time.  
**


	32. Rushing the Inevitable

**AN: Thank you to Fjord and one lovely frog-biter for voiding this chapter of my horrendous grammar. Onwards!** **Or Naprzód! As we say in Polish.**

* * *

The Nadder was enjoying the sun's warmth, lying in a pile of his own old scales, bone-quills and shed skin. He had been preening himself with satisfaction for most of the morning after tending to the humans and one irritated Night Fury.

His head suddenly jerked towards a small spot far away in the ocean, a little strip of his shed white skin hanging between his pointy teeth. It was certainly a surprise. Their first guest was coming, and it was up to him to welcome him -or her- appropriately. The dead part of hide dropped from his jaws but, before it hit the ground, the spot previously occupied by one Nadder was completely deserted.

* * *

Toothless sat and stared.

"Can you _really_ shed your skin at will?" He asked, surprised although hiding it well. The questioned First- Speaker opened his yellowish eyes and smirked upon seeing the newcomer.

"Yes, _Engar_. Along with many other things I will teach you," the Nadder said, standing up to his full height. Toothless had been uncertain if the Master's kind was able to shed skins in the first place. From what he knew, they lost scales at random intervals and others simply grew in their place, just the way it was for him. Not knowing was probably the safer option. It was hard to measure most dragons on their age or battle experience; after a certain time, their scent remained the same and most scars were covered by scales. Toothless did not have his whole body covered in that natural armour, so a a plentiful amount of his hide was uncovered. It was just the opposite for the Nadders. Their whole body was sheltered with scales, and their tail was almost wholly covered in dangerous projectiles.

The Master's skin was almost white. His whole body was a monotone light-grey, the natural hue of his skin, the usual colourful exterior gone. Now, Toothless could momentarily evaluate the superior drake's battle experience and guess his age. What he saw made him afraid. There was no healthy spot left on the Nadder's skin. All of it was covered in scars, some layered on each other. Some muscles had dents in them, scars from slashing, cutting, biting, burns and from other plights Toothless did not want to guess. The First-Speaker's frame was all heavy muscles and, as thick as the hide was, Toothless could see every muscle separately with ease. And he had once thought that his own collection of battle marks was impressive!

One particular item focused his attention. In the middle of the Nadder's chest was something shining, some sort of crystal tip. From it, like rays of sun or tentacles, black veins ran through the skin.

"What's that?" Toothless asked before he was able to hold himself back, fear apparent in his voice. Burnt be his curiosity!

"An Inhibitor," The Nadder answered dismissively with another word the Fury did possess knowledge of.

"What does _that_ mean?" The dark dragon asked, his irritation rising. He did not enjoy being treated as a hatchling who had only just learned to speak.

"Tell me what you feel," the Master asked, barely giving him any attention as he stood on one leg, lifted the other far beyond its natural limits, and scratched himself on the neck, closing his eyes in bliss.

"How I feel," Toothless echoed and, as he heard purrs of pleasure, he mustered his best deadpan human expression, "Last time I checked I did not feel anything thanks to you," he said sarcastically.

The Nadder scratched himself for a bit longer and then finished by stretching with a satisfied huff.

"Your emotional state, _Engar_. What emotions flow through you?" He asked, completely unfazed or not noticing the sarcasm. This request was more than unusual. Dragons never asked each other about their emotions. The last one who had spoken to Toothless about it was his... sister. As usual , at the memory he felt sadness and other painful emotions he did not want to share.

The Nadder tilted his head and lay down on the yellowing grass, looking at Toothless intently.

"Was living for vengeance worthwhile?" The scaleless dragon asked suddenly, his tail-tip swaying lazily back and forth.

"Very," Toothless answered immediately, looking straight into the eyes of the other drake.

"Then why are you miserable and weak, _Engar?" _The Nadder vocalised with complete neutrality. The ground, stiffened by the cold cracked as the Fury shifted his weight forward, pupils slit.

"I will ask you again, was living for vengeance worthwhile?" The Master asked once more.

"It was," Toothless barely hissed back.

"Then why are you miserable and weak?" The formerly azure-colored male dragon queried non-aggressively, ticking his tail rhythmically.

"I was strong enough to end what I started. I survived. I killed and adapted. I never stopped training and I did it all alone," Toothless countered.

"All alone? Is that something you pride yourself on? Is it one of the things which built up your self awareness? You never sought out to find a teacher, you sought comfort in solitude. Your technique got stronger but sloppy, not evolving anymore once you had reached the level that made you stronger than your, pitifully weak, enemies," The Nadder stated, "Why did you let emotions take you over and rule your life?" He asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Why did I become a Nameless?" Toothless grinned widely, emotions flowing widely. Without his basic Tagma control he had no instantaneous means of quelling them and, at that point, he did not care about using breathing techniques to calm himself, "Because I died. I've told you before, IT killed me and it was the most desirable thing that could happen to me!" He roared, his grin widening to mad proportions.

The Nadder's tail stopped moving and he eyed the younger drake with a sharp glare as Toothless continued.

"I was the last of my kind in the Nest, all that remained was a mindless mass of future food. Hate gave me a purpose. It kept me moving forward when I thought I could not move. It kept me warm when my body was numbed by cold as I waited for the next opportunity to kill. It made me strong, it made me clever, careful... patient. There is no wrong in what I did. It was my choice. Perhaps the first I have made on my own," he finished sternly, craning his neck as high as he could to make his point.

"Choice...," the Nadder for the first time turned his head away and closed his eyes. Despite his impassive expression, Toothless could tell his interlocutor also had to deal with some emotions on his own. He could not tell how, it was perhaps some sort of connection growing between them, an instinct to know what other felt," Was it really your choice?" The Nadder asked, more to himself than anyone else.

He opened his eyes which shone with the usual sharpness and attentiveness, "Seven would chastise me for giving you the knowledge directly, but I believe that you can learn from answers. Vengeance, _Engar,_ is something that can give you power, but have you ever asked yourself what you would do once you killed the one you so carefully honed your hatred for? Your fight is over, your task complete: Where do you want to go now?" He asked, drilling Toothless with his gaze. The Fury felt his anger slip away from his mental grasp against his will.

"You found your so-called purpose and let it guide you. Now it is gone, there is no more reason to hate the one who is dead, no more reason to move forward, no urge to be stronger. Has the fulfilment of your life-long goal made you feel joy, _Engar_? Are you brimming with happiness?" The Master's sudden sharp tone startled Toothless who curled back with flattened ears.

"This is why you _are_ miserable and I can't help but to pity you. You thought that letting your emotions guide you would bring a meaning to your life, but instead you created for yourself a path full of self-pity and sadness. I asked you why you are so weak and there is no deeper meaning to it, _Engar_. Why are you so weak now? Where is this power, the one that you used to slaughter so many of your kind?" The Nadder continued barraging Toothless with questions, his eyes widening and the muzzle twisting in possessiveness, "I felt it_, Engar_. I could feel your energy even from the cage on this human island. It was that powerful. But where is this power now? Stop trembling like a withering leaf and answer me!" The scaleless drake cracked his tail as a whip.

Toothless was truly trembling, as much from fear of the one before him as from the weight of his memories, "IT took the power away from me," he spoke quietly. The Nadder laughed dragon-like at the truth he received.

"That answers one of the questions I had about you. I must thank you for providing me with answers to my long time musings on how any being could utilise such a level of power," the Nadderlooked with understanding and mirth at the feared Toothless, "IT was your _Lifdagarkennarar, _wasn't it?" He asked one of the unanswerable questions. The lack of answer and the attempt from the black dragon to look as small as possible were enough to confirm the truthfulness of his thought process. The Nadder's tail reassumed waving.

"You have caught my interest, _Engar_. There are many things I have not seen or heard of, and I thank you for the possibility to explore something new,"

To the Fury's surprise he nodded, locking his eyes with the Fury, then switched back to a total lack of expression before Toothless could say anything. He found these sudden mood changes a bit disturbing.

"Here is the truth for you and the answer you seek," to the Fury's dissatisfaction, the Master had not finished yet, "I would welcome your searching the answer on your own to master your own destiny and new life-purpose, but times of peace are always limited. You must _feel_ what your new life purpose is. You must feel the compelling power, the same which made you feel merciful towards the human. It made you feel lenient and meek with the idea of bonding with one of the bipeds."

Toothless barely stopped himself from issuing a hint about the Nadder being himself a biped, but he was interested in what the older dragon wanted to tell him. So he listened.

"You must've realised by now how empty following the path of vengeance is, and that you never really did it for anyone else except for yourself. Killing never brought your kin back from the dead nor satisfied you. Dragons are not vengeful because it is not in our make-up. We do not seek conflict. We do not seek war. We do not want revenge," his tone changed to match the tempo of his swinging tail, "We are many things, but above all we are empty... Do you know why the old name for 'human' is _Scalgertar_?" The Nadder asked, knowing fully what answer he would receive.

"No," Toothless answered, reminding himself of how his sister had spoken about humans. She was the reason why he was interested in them, in observing them as if by doing it he could keep her words alive in his mind. However, memories were always there, never forgotten, always fresh, those good and those bad.

"Because we are soulless beings. Creations with reason but without free will. We exist because humans exist. We _are_ because they _are_. There is no dragon without humans, but there are humans without dragons. Your life purpose now is and will be connected to the human you were compelled to spare and ultimately befriend...

"Free choice is not given to us, young drake. You did not kill the human, your soul-giver, because you simply could not do it. From the moment you smelled the youngling you were his, and any other justification of your action would be false," the Nadder spoke in a measured, mentoring tone, "You feel full with your human, you are happy, protective, forgiving... self-sacrificing. The boy took away your ability to fly and in this way did away with his revenge, the very same feeling of revenge you built your life around. The rules have changed, you have changed. All because of him. He is your destiny, your life and what gives you your true purpose. Embrace it, nourish it and get stronger so perhaps one day...," he stopped, his eyes losing its light. He looked defeated as if he was telling Toothless some sort of verdict or punishment, "One day you will be strong enough to live by yourself," the Nadder finished, not attempting to say anything else.

He got up to his feet heavily, walking past the speechless dragon.

"Go back to your new life, build up reasons, and satiate your fear" the Master spoke to the wind, "Enjoy it as long as it lasts."

* * *

Toothless sat and stared.

The silhouette of his human's broken body curved under the blankets, the fire, as always, crackling in the background. He wanted to fly once more, feel the inexhaustible vastness of the sky and the sensation of his muscles moving once more. He could not tell anymore how his body felt. Normally, he would have forced himself to move, train , escape the stillness, the too-small space and Hiccup's sire, whom he detested deeply. Toothless should have been outside, and he would have enjoyed it. He knew it. However, this would fore him to leave Hiccup's side and he did not want to do that. Not for all the skies in the world.

Needs so basic and primal to him were lost. He did not mourn over his lost tailfin, nor did the need to soar dominate his thoughts. He had to agree with the First-Speaker that he felt good around Hiccup. He did not believe for a moment the whole explanation of draconic existence, yet he was not deluding himself enough not to see a bit of truth in it.

He sat with his head by Hiccup's side and looked into his pale face.

Even if his life now had a human name to it, the Fury did not see it as something wrong. Hiccup made him feel at peace. By his side, he felt at ease, almost guiltless, memories of his past failures were not so vivid anymore, the perpetual self-hatred had become bearable. He needed the human, yes, but that would not change his past. It would not twist him into the ever obedient, loyal puppet the Nadder had depicted him and his kind to be.

He inhaled the smell of his human and relaxed in it, closing his eyes.

He had reason but no free will?

A single notion hit him lightly, not disturbing his blissful state. The Master had spoken about himself as well, then. He would ask the Nadder a few questions when he returned to renew the Tagma blockage on Toothless. How frightened Toothless had acted was an insult on his dignity. This time he would be ready.

As for embracing a new destiny...

Toothless extended his wing, looking at it with a barely cracked eye. He could not feel how he extended it and did not want to jab Hiccup with it. The velvet-like membrane dropped over the teenager's profile and the Fury shamelessly nuzzled the boy's face.

He had absolutely no problems embracing it.

He relaxed and let himself drift into sleep.

It was just a shame his new life's purpose could not embrace him back.

* * *

Against his resolve, his mind was analysing the new information subconsciously. Toothless was granted with a long and very eventful life and the painful lack of presence of the others and input which came with it. He was alone with his thoughts, studying them, organising them. They were more precious than the present he created for himself.

No, that was a lie. He knew that it had never been his choice. It was not because of him that IT had come. Not his fault that his kin died. He had been too young, too weak to do anything. He had been afraid and he had experience this fear for his whole life. Even as he woke up by Hiccup's side, it was there. The one who planted this paralysing feeling onto him was gone and yet he was still afraid.

The truth was that, without the youth, he would have never overcome himself. Without Hiccup, he would have not defeated the mental blockage and gotten his vengeance. Scalgertar was the one who had come up with the plan. Toothless had merely executed it. In so many ways, the small piece of warmness by his side proved to be much better than Toothless ever had been.

Revenge in itself never had sense. He could see now through his pride and denial of the reality. He was IT's favourite plaything and what he did he accomplish by killing those who had done "wrong" to him? Did he change anything or get closer to his real target? At first it had been to release his anger, materialise his hatred. He had believed that he had a limitless amount of it. As with almost everything he was wrong. Hatred had stopped burning so brightly at some point, the exact moment when it happened was lost to him. In life there rarely happens a moment of illumination, an understanding of oneself. It took time and effort for him to construct himself, to accept the futile fulfilment he felt when he took another life.

Being the Shade had been a good construct. He could then pretend to be something else, and he would have spent the remaining of his days fighting with his fear to approach the Nest and always losing. Hiccup had arrived in his life as a breaking point for the dragon, something to propel him forward and regain the will to hope again.

What did he feel towards the _Scalgertar_ anyway? What emotions had triggered his change? It was something instinctual, something emotional. He had wanted to kill Hiccup in the past. Dispose of him as a source of danger. Hiccup had crippled him and yet he allowed him to live. It was a contradiction to everything Toothless had done in the past. If he felt threatened, he killed what he considered a danger. He had encounters with humans before, and the boy had been the first who did not end like the other humans who had tried to harm him. There was no regret in Toothless' prior actions. It was a natural thing to do to defend yourself, preserve one's life as little as it was worth.

What had made Hiccup so special? Toothless had many answers now; however, he could not locate the definite answer when he had first met the boy. His perfect memory, as usual, now provided him with the memories of that scene. The pain of falling down, the sound and numbing pain of his ribs cracking on the tree he hit. The burning sensation on his chest as his scales and skin disappeared, as he formed an impact crater, as he slowed to finally drop on his head from the small cliff with a self-indulging comment. He remembered it all. The pain, humiliation, guilt and sounds of ropes snapping as the boy cut him free.

Why had he not killed the youth, then? Killing was natural to him. Were those teachings of his sister to obey the set of morals? To value life and not destroy it unless absolutely necessary? No, IT taught him that there was no good and evil. Nothing was predetermined, nothing was certain. No idea, no word, no emotion. Everything was fluid, everything changed. IT spoke to him often, taught him about utilising his power and then sealed it with a promise that it would return to him in the right conditions.

Hiccup never had asked Toothless why he had spared him. Never had questioned the bond between them. It was the same for Toothless. The relation, growing from mistrust to something deeper, more familiar, better and simpler was never perceived as something unnatural. Toothless needed it, and he felt that Hiccup wanted it as well. The Fury sensed the pure, sheer need for closeness from the boy. It had never felt wrong. And they had kept each other close, in simple kinship, by sharing touch or warmness of their bodies.

The Nadder wanted him to build up his reasons on answers he incurred. What was he supposed to do with them? What did his Master want? There were many things he did not understand. Did he really need to know them? Toothless felt that a touch of ignorance would not work against him, certainly an effect of his human. He was content. He was happy for the first time in a very long time.

The only thing which came to his mind was how the First-Speaker had a promise of battle in his speech. As if he knew that the peace they shared was merely a momentary pause before the battle would start once more. Or perhaps it was a warning addressed to Toothless.

The door opened with a short squeak and a newcomer gasped softly at this scene consisting of the most-dangerous dragon known to Berkians nestled close to their new, fully incapacitated hero.

The dragon opened one of his eyes lazily as his nose caught the scent of the yellow-haired axe-girl mixing with the cold air from outside.

Astrid quickly stepped over the threshold, closing the door after herself. Without a word, she added a few logs into the fire and moved, with much less certainty towards the heavily occupied bed. The Fury considered his potential reactions for a moment and then removed himself from the covers, depositing his massive body by the bed side and concentrating on observing the female.

She put a grimace on her face, approached Hiccup and looked at him in silence. She already had done the exact same thing one sun cycle ago. Toothless had no idea what this meant. How standing by the side of somebody carried any significance. She did not seek physical contact and humans, as far as the dragon knew, could not sense each other's emotions. It was one of their strange customs he would have to understand with time.

She was the one Hiccup wanted to breed with. The flightless Fury was not an expert in how human measured attractiveness. The soft-skinned ones' sexuality was a topic he had grown interested in as Hiccup became more and more distracted. Being a well-matured dragon, Toothless was mostly asexual with a bit of self-imposed instinct control. Toothless learned how to judge the boy's lust by his smell. Once he realised that humans relied on scent in mating as well, it became easy to tell when the boy was deep in thought about the object of his physical attraction. Human females smelled differently through the time of a moon cycle. He had learned that during his more vengeful time when he used to observe humans in calmer moments.

With all that he could tell that as Astrid looked at Hiccup by the bed, she did not smell of lust at all. She had her fists curled, shining eyes and tightly clenched jaws. Then she looked at Toothless as she had yesterday and grimaced again in a smile. She put her hand close to his nose. As before, he stroked it, not for a custom as it should have been done only once and only between those who were very familiar with each other. However, the female was trying to earn his trust, and he appreciated it. The fact that Hiccup had chosen her might have played some part in it. She left after doing something what seemed important to her.

Toothless wrinkled his nose for the second time that day. Something kept tickling his nose for one reason or another and he could not tell why. He had to thank the First-Speaker for sealing most of his abilities. It again made him appreciate that he was different from humans in the fact that he relied on more than five senses. He laid himself by the boy's side. He had a few chosen words and ideas he would share with the First-Speaker the next time he would meet that insufferable bundle of battle scars.

* * *

All humans Toothless passed gave him a look he interpreted as interest and fear as he walked through the village. There were no other dragons he could see, and their smell was already barely identifiable. One smell, however, was easily perceptible from the plethora of other odours. It came as clear as prey in a low-grass field on a full- moon night. The Nadder was strolling casually, as casually one could behave by walking and jumping from roof to roof.

Two could play that game.

"You had a _Scalgertar_ once, long ago," Toothless attacked before the Nadder had a chance to say anything as the Fury jumped gracefully at one of the roof, increasing the total population of dragon inhabitants by one (and, thus, doubling it). The Master barely acknowledged his younger student at first. However, he eventually stopped and the eye visible to Toothless drifted towards the newcomer.

"It took you much longer than I would have wagered to figure that one out," the Nadder chirped and Toothless almost snarled. This biped was acting as if nothing surprised it and was not letting him to show off, "I thought you would have figured it out after I helped you regain your mental soundness. How would one of your kind have such detailed knowledge of how to deal with a mild case of hormonal imbalance, how to program a few behaviours into a human mind and has-,"

"I understand," Toothless hissed, stopping the tirade. They had to stop their "friendly" exchange as the Nadder jumped from one roof to another barely, lowering his body. The Vikings below did not notice the shadow which passed over the street quickly and was quickly followed by another one.

"Is there any other reason than boosting your ego for talking to me?" The Nadder asked perceptively, looking at the Fury as he took another nimble jump onto another building. Toothless leaped, landing much louder, to his displeasure.

"Yes, I do have a request to make," the black dragon stated dully and almost bumped his snout against the Nadder's behind. That dragon had stopped suddenly with a much too self-satisfied grin on his muzzle.

"Ahh, a 'request' means that you trust me already. Oh, goody," the master said with a plastered draconic smile.

"No. I would have never done it, had it only concerned me," Toothless growled louder than he wanted. Several humans turned their heads up to the noise on the roofs.

"Indeed. What is it you desire, _Engar_?" The Nadder asked, turning towards him fully. He appeared to be almost eager to listen to Toothless.

"One of your obligations as a First-Speaker is to help in youngling's training. I want... I _need_ you to train my _Scalgertar," _the Fury spoke unsurely. The draconic language depended on tone and tempo of the uttered sounds to indicate on the speaker's emotional state. Toothless also was not sure how to translate the name of the youth, as it represented some sound humans made in certain physical conditions. He could think about the name, recalling it spoken in Norse, or the second option, name him _Scalgertar_. Whenever the Nadder caught the slip in Toothless's speech, he did not show it.

"Your request is unneeded. As you truthfully stated, it is my duty to train all of my new kin, human or not... and, truthfully, I have more expertise in training humans than anyone else," the Nadder said thoughtfully. That answered another question the Fury had.

"Then that means humans can use Tagma," Toothless vocalised his thoughts using the tone pattern which "invited" the talker to elaborate the presented idea.

"Of course. They learn its use faster and better than our kind , and your youngling has been one of the most... how to say it... his raw potential is one I've sensed only a few times before in humans," the Master stated impassively, looking back to another house to jump onto.

"Spare me a heartbeat more, _Forser é Visa_," the Fury stopped the Nadder, using his more formal title in a hope to appeal to him more. (The pains his pride took for Hiccup!) "Why have I never heard about the possibility of human training?" Toothless asked.

The Nadder cracked his neck loudly, "The connection between humans and dragons appears to be mostly lost these days. However, the relationship between us and these stupid mutated primates is much older than you or me," he explained, negligent in tone, but yet ever patient.

"Mutated primates?" Toothless parroted, eyes widening.

"I don't know what it means. Seven calls humans that when she is mad," the Master spoke smoothly. He looked down at Toothless, "Your next question will be the last one for me now, _Engar: _I need to assist humans, but I also have other duties to attend to," he added quickly with a small smirk. Toothless needed only a moment of thought to question again.

"Is another conflict coming this way?"

The Nadder showed his pointy fangs in a grin, "Possibly. It is good that you pay attention to what I say. Therefore , listen and remember my words. I decided to become the First-Speaker and protect my Athet. I will not let any harm come to them, and that includes you and your hairless ape," he said using another term probably borrowed from Seven.

Before Toothless could react, he nuzzled the Night Fury's forehead gently. His body betraying him, the younger dragon partially closed his eyes, enjoying the gesture. Nobody had spoken to him like that after...

He finally caught his act and recoiled angrily only to see that the Nadder was gone already, now leaping with usual grace from one roof to another.

Toothless slammed his paw on the roof in hopeless frustration. He still hated the Nadder to the core. Now it had become a bit more difficult to feel that, though. He decided to return to his new, close and very small den, justifying quickly his lack of strength control.

Bah. Humans would not mind another hole in their settlements.

This lack of feeling was more problematic than helpful. And his nose kept on itching.

Oh woe was he!

* * *

To his angst list Toothless could now added a bleeding leg which he probably injured as he moved around, not feeling when he bumped into something and his lack of knowledge when he actually needed to relieve himself. In the process, he had almost incinerated a human. Not without a reason of course. Vikings, in their so-called wisdom had tried to bandage Hiccup's leg in hastily rewashed bandaging. The Nadder had said to make sure that the wound cover would be fresh and unused.

The Night Fury followed that instruction and shot a short flame burst at the white cloth, burning it within few seconds and destroying whatever little trust the woman may have had in dragons. She did not run to the exit with a piercing shout as the dragon would have expected her to do. She ran indeed, but instead to the wall with a few, dangerous, well preserved weapons mounted to the side. She lifted a mean-looking sword, almost as long as she was, a ferocious passion to spill a Night Fury's guts shining in her eyes.

For a smallish and overweight female she sure moved fast! Stoick moved next, holding back the woman and looking at the dragon with a hard expression. Toothless was more adept now in reading human faces, and the one Hiccup's sire bore meant that he was cautious but would defend himself if provoked.

A good decision for both sides of the conflict, Toothless decided as he was sure that he would not be disturbed, at least for the moment. With his sense of touch lost, he could not control his strength or coordinate his movements well. If the female attacked him, he would end up killing her in some way; that was certain.

Eyeing the pair of soft-fleshed mammals, the Fury crawled carefully onto Hiccup's bed and started licking the unbandaged stump. The woman gasped but was held back by Stoick's outstretched hand. After cleaning the wound, Toothless retreated from the bed and grabbed the new bandage from the basket by the side. He walked with it to Stoick.

The woman grabbed the weapon's handle tighter, however, Stoick appeared curious. He slowly took the material and let it dangle around his palm as the dragon released it. Toothless then curled himself by the massive bed.

The Chieftain's eyes shifted from the gift of the Night Fury to the beast and then to his son.

"Mouldful, please use this clean bandage fo' my son's leg," Stoick spoke with usual grimness, handing the woman the bandage. The healer appeared confused for a moment, before catching the glimpse of the man's eyes. Reluctantly, she exchanged the tool of death for the tool of healing. For a moment the chubby woman looked as if she would not do what her leader had requested. But she yielded and tended to Hiccup, both Toothless' and her eyes not leaving each other.

Stoick took a deep breath when the woman left, steadying himself. Once, he would have reacted just as Mouldful did and attacked the black devil. Old habits die hard. He breathed out again in the spacious room. Without a word, he moved to the fireplace and checked the temperature of the water in the iron cauldron hanging about the fire.

Even if only a few days had passed since the battle with the Red Death as people now named the multi-eyed monstrosity, he already considered this moment the highlight of his day. Slowly, he removed his heavy cloak, vest and shirt, folding them all neatly and placing them by the bed, standing bare-chested and ignoring the dragon eyeing his every move.

He was not called Stoick without a reason, and his mind-set had drastically changed lately. Everything he believed in had to be rearranged, destroyed and replaced.

Another deep breath resonated as he removed the cauldron and laid it by the stool, a clean, white cloth already on its rim. If only beliefs were so easy to replace, if only it were as effortless as living by them. Just as this routine he was about to do, his life was easy when it came to what he believed in. He knew who he was, who he was to become. With the simplicity it required for him to understand which side of the hammer to strike, he followed the rules. He also had taught others of them; and where had that led him?

He uncovered his son; carefully and with practiced ease he took off the youth's sleeping clothes. His heart squeezed in pain at the look of the body underneath.

Many years had passed since he had last seen his son without his clothes on. The boy had secluded himself as soon as the burns he had received had healed enough for him to tend to himself on his own. The boy was too young for this to be attributed his wanting to have more privacy as he matured. He was a child who apparently needed more privacy than a cynical adult, choosing instead to sitin his room and draw or read.

Stoick had caught him once, by mere chance, checking on how he looked in front of a polished shield, making sure that the collar of his tunic was long enough. Hiccup had flustered and awkwardly pretended it was as coincidental as his father entered, pretending that he was checking himself in the mirror-like reflection of the buckler.

Stoick dismissed it, threw whatever it meant out of his mind and carried on with his fatherly duties, to his knowledge and belief, as best as he could.

This is what this was to him: duties and responsibilities.

He tenderly brushed his progeny's reddish-brown hair and took one of the large pieces of white cloth. After taking off the loincloth-diaper and chucking it to the empty basket by the bed to be washed later, he took his son in his arms and, with a delicacy nobody would have expected from a man of such frame and strength, he laid Hiccup on the white cloth and carried him to the stool by the fireplace. There, in the comforting warmth, he sat with his son lying in his lap, the teen's limp head supported by his enormous arm, while the other grabbed the towel on the cauldron's rim and dampened it in the tepid water.

He allowed his thoughts to wander, as he washed his beloved child's mauled frame.

When had they drifted apart? At what point had their relation changed from the one a father and son should have, to one of strangers? He tried not to think about it. Stoick always had something more important to do. Tend to the village, solve disputes, coordinate the rebuilding of the village after the previous dragon attack, count the resources and maintain friendly relations with the merchants so important for their survival, listen to the latest rumours or just take a walk.

He had tried at the beginning, tried to be liked the father he himself never had.

The water dripped from the cloth and slid along the old burn scars marring the white skin. They told of the amount of pain such a young body had to go through.

Stoick, unable to hold his emotions anymore, brought his son's head and kissed him on the forehead in silent apology. There was too much to apologise for. Stoick already had done it once before Hiccup had rushed to save them all, and he would do it as many times as necessary in the future. The burly Viking let his lips part and continued with his task, sweeping away the sweat which had coated on his son overnight. Stoick let himself think again.

He had tried at the beginning... and it all started after his wife had died.

It had been a point which changed his and, even more, his son's life. He did not see it before, just as he could not see the truth about the dragons. Such a fool he was, so absorbed in himself and his blame for his son. Somehow he had blamed Hiccup for Valhalaramma's death. He had based it on how his son was found, burned and barely alive. Nobody had expected Hiccup to survive, even his father. Here, people could die from a simple tiny burn due to the infection, but despite everything, Hiccup had survived; surprising everybody.

People had considered it either a blessing of Gods or some sort of magic or witchcraft, but either way, a twist of fate which should not have happened. The murmurs, however, died quickly. For Hiccup the slow road to recovery began.

Months had passed, filled with muffled cries of agony as the determined, stubborn boy cried into his pillow. He had bitten it furiously as his body twisted under the fiery pain over and over again. Stoick had had his share of wounds in his life, and he had seen people die in many ways, but even he was taken back as he saw his six-year-old son wriggling in suffering and utter anguish. And how sometimes Hiccup could not hold back screaming , and he screamed… Gods how he screamed with a voice which did not sound human at all.

Stoick remembered his son -how could he forget-, shouting, saying things... such a young person should not utter. Eyes misted, sweat dropping and body thrashing, saying nonsense on most times, delirious from fever and exhaustion. And, yet, other times, Hiccup would ask a terrible request in quite a clear and reasonable voice for a six year old...

Stoick's hand now shook as he uselessly tried to steady himself, looking at his son's teenage body.

Hiccup asked a few times if after he would die, would he see his mom again to tell her that he was sorry.

He created some sort of mind set, Stoick blamed on excruciating pain. Hiccup had somehow been_ bad_. Because it was his fault, and his father did not make a bad person disappear. That he was too late with his wish.

Back then, Stoick had been sure his son would die soon and , as much as he hated himself for thinking that, he thought death for young Hiccup would be a mercy. Who indeed, deserved such horrible suffering, facing a future filled with nothing but scars of the past?

The horrific agony had lasted a few weeks and then, one night , the boy woke up in front of him. Stoic saw Hiccup's green eyes, bloodshot from such a long deprivation of proper rest , although agony and delirium no longer gleamed in them.

The boy asked for water and complained that he was hurt. Then he inquired why was his back in pain. It took a short time for Stoick to learn the disturbing truth. Hiccup no longer remembered the details about his mother. Maybe that was for the better? Not remembering meant not suffering because of it. Perhaps.

Maybe it was at that moment that Stoick mentally abandoned his son. Maybe some hidden part of him was angry at the small youth for forgetting about Stoick's beloved life-companion. Perhaps he Stoick had been negligent. Perhaps Hiccup cared, but did not show it.

Hiccup's father no longer needed to ask himself those questions or assume conclusions. He knew the answers now.

Stoick kissed his teenage son's forehead again, mentally begging for forgiveness. Again.

A man kept learning throughout his life, although why did some lessons have to be so painful? Not for him. He did not want to think about himself anymore but about his son. And his village. His responsibility would not disappear no matter what happened.

At least, as he washed his son, he could forget about the village before going back to the lengthy and heated dispute about the dragons' position in their society, the main topic among hundreds of others. Despite the chaos, the Hairy Hooligans were slowly moving forward. Stoick strongly felt that their new, scaly allies could be successfully added to their community. The certainty of it rose with the Elder taking Stoick's side in the discussion. The Chieftain had recently granted his subjects a week to decide where they would stand regarding dragons and there would be a vote.

For now, however, nothing existed outside his house. It was only he, his son and the sound of wet fabric travelling on Hiccup's skin. Only for this short time of the day, could Stoick relearn how to be a father in this household of one man and one grown child.

A stream of soft, warm air ruffled his beard causing him to smile.

And one Night Fury, naturally.

Thanks to his son, Stoick could still hope and, therefore , change. No more stagnant mindset enforced by Viking stubbornness and belief that all old teachings were correct. His eyes had been closed for too long, just as his mind.

Stoick fed Hiccup carefully with chicken broth from a small bowl, a courtesy of one of the village women, as his cooking skills were still severely lacking. He finished the routine by pouring some water down his son's throat.

He then carried Hiccup back to bed after rubbing the burn ointment onto the boy's old scars and dressing him again. Stoick kissed his child's forehead once more and then allowed himself to eat the same broth he had shared moments ago.

Just as the Chieftain slipped his shirt and cloak back on his imposing frame to start his midday duties, the door creaked open.

"Good day, Stoick!" An enthusiastic voice greeted him, followed by the knock as a figure hobbled inside.

"Good afternoon, Gobber," the red-bearded men answered back. He finished tying his bearskin cape and endowing his head with his the memento of his wife.

He did not mind his best friend entering the house; however, he raised a suspicious eyebrow as Gobber passed him without a word and headed to Hiccup's bed, humming to himself as out-of-tune as usual. Now he noticed the blacksmith wore his belt with the usual set of tools and other necessary blacksmith contraptions.

"Here's our hero, then" Gobber announced proudly, putting his arm stump, free from any metallic addition to his belted hip. With his other hand, he removed something which looked like a cord with loops tied on it equidistant from each other, "I like his pose... truly heroic, his limp hands ready t' strike an enemy, his closed eyes ever-watchful!"

Gobber looked back with a sly grin and noticed his old friend's much drier stare, "C'mon help me 'ere, Stoick, people outside ar' killin' me fo' details 'bout our sleepin' legend! We will add a few inconspicuous details, like Hiccup killing th' Red Death alone, havin' a body worthy of Odin's praise an' winnin' without a scratch on his body," he beamed at his friend whose stare was as dry as the sun's surface, "Stoick, people want t' hear such things! They don't like t' know tha' their hero is, in reality, not so strong, got a few health problems is a virgin, lost a limb an' almost died," Gobber explained the mechanics of composing a good Viking Saga

"Maybe another time," the Chieftain said diplomatically.

"Oh! How 'bout Hiccup havin' a few women falling for him at the same ti- Oh I didn't see ya there, beastie!" He raised his voice as he took step back on instinct.

Indeed, the Night Fury blended well into the darkness, two green-yellow orbs glowing in by the bed side.

"Yer choice of house pets has drastically changed lately, Stoick," the shield-builder said. sarcasm mixed with anxiety.

"I thought the dragon might want t' stay by my son's side. After all he was th' one who saved him," the village ruler said nonchalantly, looking in the direction of the beast.

Toothless took a careful step to Gobber and his muzzle approached the blacksmith's face, which grew tense with rapid confusion. As the dark head came close to the human's, the mighty jaws opened wide... only to give a very slobbery lick across Gobber's face.

"I think he likes ya," Stoick said with a good-hearted humour as the middle-aged smith tried to push away the assaulting snout.

Stoick himself kept his distance, as he was aware of the beast's hostility towards him.

"How could ya tell?" Gobber asked sardonically, wiping his face with his shirt. He looked up at the dragon in reluctant expectance of further kinship. Toothless retreated to his den of blankets and curled up , his eyes glowing in the dimmed room again as he observed the blacksmith.

"What's on yer mind, Gobber?" Stoick asked, deciding to occupy himself while his friend would go about his business. Stoick poured himself another bowl of chicken soup.

"I need t' measure Hiccup's leg an' build a replacement... one fo' ... walkin' an'...," Gobber made a not-so-subtle pause for a Dramatic Effect, "One fo' flyin'!"

Stoick's eyes widened and Toothless' ear-antennas switched to a very-attentive position.

"Ya mean Hiccup will b' able t' fly th' beast again?" The father asked with surprise and took a glance at Gobber, who lifted the covers. He took the piece of rope from his belt and measured the missing space which should have been occupied by the lower part of the leg.

"I'm sure I can recreate th' flight design from th' drawings and schemes ya found in Hiccup's room," Gobber said calmly while he took out his soft pencil and carefully drew a line on the rope, making sure the measurement taken was accurate, "Hiccup basically left me th' whole knowledge... all th' measurements, technical sketches, encountered problems. Even an idiot would b' able t' build one of th' things he used t' fly still...," he looked at Toothless with a grin made up of twenty-eight enamel -and-one-stone toothed grin.

"Making a dragon fly again. Very impressive. A downed dragon is not a dead dragon after all, huh?" Gobber mused, stowing his tools and nearing the reclining, drake who jauntily nuzzled against the outstretched head and purred as the blacksmith scratched his dark skin.

"Gobber, I have a few things I need t' talk t' ya 'bout dragons," Stoick said quickly, following the logic that the faster he would talk about it with his friend, the sooner the awkwardness of the topic would disappear.

His friend merely raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly for the new information.

* * *

Scalgertar's sire explained the details of his talk with the other younglings who were involved in the battle with IT.

Toothless had to admit that the human leader had quickly caught onto the new concept of dragons being an intelligent species.

Hiccup had spoken at great lengths of how his _faðir_ was stubborn to accept new ideas and views. How even remotely talking about the scaled enemy as anything other than "a picturesque and slightly macabre fireplace decoration" would be considered as something revolting.

Either Hiccup's sire really_ had _changed or he had gotten hit in the head with something very hard.

Toothless suspected the first while hoping for the latter.

Things seemed to be constantly changing for the Nadder, the Guide, the humans calling themselves Vikings…

It was very stimulating for the Night Fury's mind although, instead of deciphering the current situations he could not help, he could do nothing but anticipate his upcoming training with the First-Speaker. It was the title he used for the Master and, whether he liked it or not, Toothless realized he would be called _Engar_ …and that was how it should have been.

Dragons did not give out their own names to others. Never to strangers and those whom they did not trust. Not giving them upon meeting was an indirect way of saying that you were a stranger and you had yet to earn the right to be accepted for what you were , as their names reflected the very essence of what the dragon was. How it looked, what character it possessed and who trained and Guided it.

All those answers lay in the name, and it was not to be given to those you could not completely rely on.

Toothless doubted he would ever learn the Master's real name. _Siver Haeka_ ... he recalled his kind's real name, the Swift Loyality.

His teacher was far stronger than he and therefore he, Toothless, was not worthy of knowing it. The distance between them was vast; however, the connection had been made and it had to be respected.

It was a choice only. What the Master did was a simplified version of how Toothless had decided to make Hiccup his clanmate. It did not really need any ritual, drawing in the sand or even a touch. It was a choice and, for dragons, the stronger one was the one deciding for both parties. If you did not want to concede you could leave …most of the time.

The bond between Toothless and Hiccup was mutual. The youth was not aware of the significance of stepping over the drawn shape in the sand at the time.

It did not matter, it had been Toothless' choice because he was the strongest of the pair. He could care for the boy and decide for him what was best for him. That is why he had trained Hiccup secretly, hypnotised him and why he had done something the black dragon knew that the boy would not approve of. It had been for his own good.

He had to get stronger, had to learn how to defend himself, and yet where had all that led? To the painful realisation that he was not yet ready to guide another one, and that almost cost him almost his life.

Then he was saved by the Master who had the knowledge and the power Toothless was lacking. For now. If he ever wanted to properly guide his most precious companion, Toothless had to be stronger, not in body but in mind, to grow wiser. That he needed time and, even if he was an adult by his species standards, he was now aware of how little he actually knew and how backwards he was with his mastery of the Tagma. Solitude was not as ideal as he had once thought. Isolation had not brought him the power he needed to fulfil his vengeance.

This made him miserable.

_Then why you are miserable and weak, Engar?_

Toothless's lips curled upwards at the thought of the Master's insults. He had somebody to criticise him and train him. His first real draconic acquaintance since his family, which had been far too long ago. It would be beneficial for him to follow the Master and learn from him. It was all a matter of choice, after all, and he made his to obey the Master. He remembered the conversation.

"_I decreed the First Rule of our Community!"_ _The First-Speaker had announced proudly, having taken care of Toothless and checked on Hiccup's state. The Fury's deadpan stare spoke volumes, deaf to the Nadder's internal ears. _

"_Act stupid!" he said with the pride of somebody who has a sudden strike of brilliance. Out of every response the Fury chose a simple:_

"_Why?"_

"_These humans are not ready yet to accept our superior intellect! In short: avoid creating the problems you, writing in their language, would cause. As long as you make no problems, I have less to do and I will be happy. That's all."_

Therefore, Toothless had not created problems. He let the red-haired burly human leader assume as much as he wanted about him and spent the remaining time of his recovery by Hiccup's side, which so far had taken two sun cycles. Two, very long and boring rotations of the yellow circle filled with visits of many humans and only one dragon.

In addition, his nose was still itchy.

The torture of motionless inability ended at last by the ocean's shore on a rather cold, by human standards, morning.

The Nadder told him to stay still, his head hovering above Toothless' neck, doing whatever he did. The Night Fury's senses returned suddenly, his muscles flushing with sensations, tingling with anticipation and energy. He shuddered, amazed beyond belief and equally scared of what he felt. He had never felt that way before!

The shiver of pure pleasure almost made his focus slip as his body regained its strength and opened to the world. His heart ached somewhere in the momentary ecstasy, but he quenched the sensation quickly with centuries-old, practiced ease. External auras flooded his mind. He withdrew from his blissful seclusion and surveyed the Master sitting before him, his tail curled around his legs.

His presence was everywhere, omnipresent as the air he now tardily realized he breathed, calm and surprisingly weak.

It was dormant, Toothless observed simply, puffing his chest to its limits as he took a deep breath, checking his cracked ribs which had healed as the muscles and tendons elongated painlessly.

The last traces of Tagma disappeared from the surroundings and the Nadder appeared no different from any member of his species, albeit severely injured, scale-deprived. And quite tall and muscular for a Nadder.

Toothless, judging from the façade, wondered for a moment how many creatures had lost their lives assuming the Nadder was "ordinary."

"Are you ready for your first assignment?" The Nadder chirped, radiating his usual calmness with a speck of negligence in his body language. Toothless had no problems hiding his excitement, his body frozen in place, channelling more and more Tagma into his body. His limits had shifted, he felt that with every fibre of his being. He was more than eager to test them- and then destroy them and reach even higher!

"Will this make me stronger?" The Fury asked, his mind placid and as sharp as his claws.

"Yes," his Life Teacher answered, equally placid, and sprung to his feet. The crystal in his chest glimmered, reflecting the sunlight as he turned around, "Follow me and prepare yourself for a very long journey."

He did not leave time for any more doubt or considerations. Rightly so, as Toothless had none. He observed both the body and aura as he let himself be led.

At first the Nadder's steps appeared to be forced and almost sloppy in execution, thudding loudly against the sand.

The dark dragon followed with extreme ease, barely feeling the weight of his own body and , even with his Tagma-enhanced senses , he barely caught the change in the Nadder's running technique. The energy appeared suddenly, filling his body with low, but steady volume. How he did it was very different. The Fury used the Tagma to fill his whole body and let it flow freely, whereas the _Siver Haeka's _life energy appeared and disappeared in rapid bursts.

_He uses Tagma only on the muscles he plans to move. Low power, but much higher efficiency than mine... it requires tremendous control and experience to feed the energy so well without causing it to rupture any tissue,_ Toothless' mind calmly noted, greedily memorising the patterns and unfold their secrets.

The Nadder's legs quickened, its movement's details disappearing and becoming fuzzed. The dragons stormed through the sand and rocks, leaving them at their raising wakes. There was not much shore left to continue the exercise.

Something enveloped Toothless, that he recognised as the Master's Tagma. He immediately blocked it from accessing his body with his own.

_**Do not resist. Trust,**_ the Nadder's voice sounded in his head as he was at the verge of stopping.

_Follow. Get Strong. Endure. Hiccup._

Instead of coherent thoughts, the ideas flashed in his mind as a mixture of distant emotions, suppressed by mind-training. He lowered his mental shields, letting this alien substance perforate him.

_**I'll monitor you. Increase the flow. **_

Toothless obeyed, concentrating further, and his muscles tingled from the amount of Tagma in them. One slip, one moment of distraction and the force inside him would kill him.

Tagma was not something to be played with. It had to be studied, methodically trained until the information on how to use it was imprinted into one's brain.

It was so far away from the Viking "magic" or _seiðr_as Hiccup called it**. ** Hiccup had described this to him as he recalled some of the sagas he had read. Objects with protective power, shape-shifting, future-telling... it was so different and unnatural!

Their speed increased even more as the dragons took the last, crazed pace on the land and onto the ocean.

"Interesting," Toothless said with guarded amusement looking briefly at his blurred legs as he kept on following.

It was not every day one ran on the water.

* * *

From the rocky hill outside the village, the view was spectacular. Not because of the lovely view of the ocean's calm surface, wrinkled with small, lazily moving waves. It was a lovely because it was a perfect space to practice escapology. Boilpus had recently discovered benefits of adding a bit of time on his own.

The situation in the village at the moment was unhealthy. People were more than stressed, unnatural things were happening, strange, strange things.

Those Vikings burned in the nest attack miraculously were not dying even though they should have.

Some villagers argued that it was the will of the Gods, either a blessing or a curse. Nothing was certain , chaotic times in this island forgotten by most of the world.

Boilpus found a spot beneath the secluded hill to enjoy a few moments of peace, and he was not alone in his desire.

A large male contigent of the village had created small groups, discussing their new living situation and drinking amounts of alcohol that rivaled their huge sense of anxiety.

Women responded similarly, mingling in their own ways, and those who were married used their privilege to complain to their counterparts. And this exclusive right they used extensively.

Tension created more problems than the simple search for mind asylum and genders separating from each other. Other problems were worse.

All this was happening, once again, because of dragons.

There were already those who wanted them to be present in the village and those who wanted them far away. Stoick explained where they were and why.

He had told them about his son, Hiccup's discovery of the real reason behind the dragon raids. It all seemed so impossible. So many years of fighting for nothing, so many lives lost in the name of pointless stubbornness?

If anything, his pride was the last thing a Viking would throw away … and the Chieftain had just done that.

Boilpus was merely a guard, though he was a vivid listener. He could tell that, for now, there were slightly more enthusiasts for making peace with dragons and utilising them for their benefit.

Like pets, horses or parrots.

Stoick's speech was long, and there was a subtle message in it. They would not pursue warfare anymore as the time of dragon battle was over. That won the middle-aged guard over and the very thought of the real possibility of the fight to end brought a tear to his eye.

Every warrior yearns, in spite of the glorified death sung in Sagas, for peaceful times. He dreams that after all the destruction and carnage there will be a beautiful day where he or she can let their weapon rest and their shield lay on the ground.

Every warrior fights not for war or eternal glory, but for peace. The day Stoick told his intentions was not by any standards beautiful, it was cloudy; it hailed for a moment and it was becoming cold, although the emotions could not have been more beautiful than it already was.

People understood the message and, if not for the dragons, they would have accepted it joyously yet...

Some others, for reasons he could perfectly understand and connect with, could not forget the dragons and swore to oppose the very idea of adding them to the village's existence.

Instead of becoming relaxed, people were becoming and more stressed and tensed. In short, the community was slowly being torn apart by a beast nobody could see.

Hatred.

Boilpus exhaled the fume of mist and gulped a bit of his usual "Viking courage" from his pocket-flask.

Or maybe he was overreacting? By Þórr, he hoped so! They had to overcome the fear of uncertainty together. He sighed and gulped once more his high-octane beverage.

He had made up his mind.

He talked to other men and they had enough of this tension as well.

Vikings do not dwell in the past, they use the present and look to the future. He stood up, still not used to the weight of his chainmail and the sword on his back.

It was a wonderful feeling.

They all had their families, and there was no higher pleasure than creating a violent-free future for their kids.

He already saw it in his mind: he would still train his son and two daughters in weapon-handling, tell them the stories of the past as a warning and whenever they were be in doubt he would recall one of the things he witnessed.

The story about stubbornness and hidden uniqueness of a certain boy who went out against everything he knew and believed in and changed it together with those who were not afraid to risk everything in the name of ideals and hope.

It was a good story and he hoped, just as those young people did, that his children would find it as inspirational as he did.

With renewed spirits, he marched away to talk to people and destroy the boundaries that started to crack their unity and work for the change, to do something good.

He was not the only one with a plan.

He walked back to the village, completely missing two silhouettes darting into the horizon as they seemed to do it across the water, the water sprinkling behind them as they disappeared from the vision with a speed nobody would have expected from a dragon- or any living thing- to possess.

* * *

Toothless' Tagma control slipped for the first time after a few minutes of their journey and, when the Nadder said that he would monitor him, he really meant it.

The Master instantaneously compensated and stabilised his flow, letting the Night Fury regain control without any delay in the trip's progress. Toothless felt he had reached the limit of his body and sensed his legs could not move any faster.

The Nadder seemed to understand it and adjusted his pace to his.

The Fury was certain his life-teacher could move even quicker. As to why they were travelling like this, it was obvious, as one of them both was permanently grounded.

However, this called for one question, and Toothless was one of the curious type.

"Where are we going and why do you need me with you?" He growled throatily, his eyes half-opened, careful not to open his mouth too much because of the water sparking his hide.

_**Open your wings to one-third of their full length. It will lower the weight you put on your legs,**_ the Nadder telepathised instead of answering in draconic words.

_**Before you start probing me with questions, there is something I need to establish with you. For our mutual interest, I will continue training you. In return for your obedience, I swear to you my honesty. It is a Binding between a student and a Master, as there is no trust without veracity**_.

He made a pause , letting Toothless absorb the information,_** However, my allegiance is to Seven, and I need to follow her Bindings. One of them is not to share the knowledge she consider dangerous and forbids me from spreading. Therefore, there will be moments where I will obviate the truth from reaching you. However, know that it is not because of my lack of respect or trust for you, but because I need to follow my Guide. Just as I expect you to do as well when the Time comes.**_

"Agreed," Toothless warbled shortly. The Nadder gave him his word and, therefore, he was Bound now to follow his Master's choice. It was all about choice for dragons.

_**Seven discerned smoke from one of the island inhabited by humans and has asked me to investigate. I could not do so immediately, as I had to heal and stabilise the humans here. A tedious and monotonous task, although I finally managed to fulfil my obligation to Seven. I can now leave the island to pursue other orders.**_

_**As for you, I finished healing the last of humans before last moon-rising , yet I also waited for you to finish recuperating. I had to wait half a sun-cycle for you to be fully functional again, although it was worth it , as I can now fulfil my duty and train you at the same time.**_

_**A lesson for you Engar: never leave your Nest without somebody guarding your back. You are my partner for this assignment; protect me from harm, as I will do so for you,**_ the First-Speaker thought-sent. It was much easier to phantom the voice in the interlocutor's head instead of trying to raise the voice through the whistling wind and the air howling by the water surface as they sheared the air with the speed the Fury used to fly with.

When he was plummeting.

"The Binding of honesty is valid from now on?" Toothless asked, the volume raising in his voice.

_**It is,**_ the Nadder answered.

"Why did you claim that I did not have a choice in choosing my Scalgertar as my own? What you told me seems more like a riddle than a straight answer, and yet you claim that you are not one for secrets!"

The dragon left a long trail of agitated water behind himself. He roared to get past the noise barrier, not because of frustration. He actually felt calm and composed as he had to be when dealing with Tagma.

Roaring that loud did not help him, as the elusive energy slipped from his mental grasp and the Nadder had to help him stabilise it again.

_**The Second Article forbids me from sharing this information**_, came the automatic-sounding response.

Toothless would have snorted sarcastically if he were not moving so fast through the resisting air.

"What is the danger to the Nest you spoke about?" The jet-black dragon asked as he avoided a jet of water from under his leader's legs as that dragon gently turned.

_**For now, it is hard to tell. Seven will have more information. Our duty is to be prepared,**_ the Nadder provided.

"With us gone , then, who will defend the island?" Toothless queried and shook his head quickly to get the water out of his eyes.

_**I left sufficient defences in place for us,**_ the Master explained calmly.

"Is Seven a dragon?"

_**The Second Article forbids me from sharing this information**_

"Why are you helping the humans?"

_**The Second Article forbids me from sharing this information**_

"Why are you helping me?"

_**Because it is my duty. And also to monitor and guide your progress with Tagma manipulation. I expect great things from you in the future, Engar**_

"Why did you let yourself be captured and serve as entertainment for the humans?"

_**The Second Article forb-**_

"What is that thing in your chest? Explain it in words I can understand."

_**The Second Article forbids me from sharing this information**_, the Nadder supplied with the same, emotionless voice.

Toothless let himself think a bit before trying to gather more information. From what angle should he attack next?

_**How do you feel about your revenge now? Is it still dominating your thoughts?**_ The Nadder's chirps sounded in Toothless' occupied mind.

Oh, that's right. The Binding was working both ways now. Toothless could always deflect the unwanted question with his need for privacy, though all information he could provide had to be answered truthfully.

"I feel like I have lost something very important in my life, something essential, a part of myself or a close companion. I feel lost and look up for comfort in my human's presence. It helps," Toothless answered impassively.

He would have never admitted his emotions so freely, not even to Hiccup, as he still did not understand himself and his past. Also, more simply, he now did not find his emotional state as something of much importance.

There was a dash of silence while they ran, salt and brine filling their nostrils. It now seemed to be Toothless' turn for inquiries.

He had no idea what question to pose next. He had the basic information he needed. The Nadder was his ally and would help him and Hiccup as long as Toothless followed his instructions or as long as Seven did not change her Bindings on the Nadder.

Every other question would be solemnly to satisfy his insatiable curiosity. Besides, the ocean sprint was taking away most of the Fury's concentration. His breathing already had quickened, and he could feel his legs' muscles screaming in protest at the continuous abuse.

It was all good. The best.

He was doing it! He was on the path of progress, he was now doing something which had been impossible to him only a moon-cycle ago... with only a little help.

The Master observed the grin on his disciple's muzzle. He was not aware of his own expression and let his eyes align on the horizon. Seven did well in not allowing him to share his knowledge freely. Information had the power of changing and sometimes crushing the one who desired it.

He still had this feeling again. That something was coming, some bigger change in his life. It meant, more fighting, killing and adapting.

_You only delay the inevitable, _he mirrored the words Seven said to him.

_Engar_... If not for the human, he would have succumbed into his focus on revenge and never retreated to sanity... if the black drake had ever been sane in the first place. He did not know the extensiveness of the Night Fury's psychological trauma and what he had experienced, but it would all surface... it all would go back. Back and forth, up and down.

In cycles.

To fully advance, Toothless would have to face his past and clean it. And it would be the same for his human. The Time had not come yet, and there was no point in focusing on it for now. One problem at a time.

Toothless would now enjoy a careless adventure. He deserved that before he would have to face himself and be strong enough not to break.

Everyone had a breaking point, a moment from which it was impossible to return.

With all the chaos in life, a dragon's life was simpler than a human's. Everything was the same, except for one thing.

Dragons broke and then died. It was one of the few certainties in their lives.

The Nadder's thoughts shifted to the device buried deeply in his chest as, once more,he absent-mindedly rectified the aura around the youngling.

He had broken a long time ago and for _Engar_...

He smirked lightly and paraphrased Seven in his mind.

_There is no need to rush the inevitable_

* * *

The light barely lingered, making space for the seeping darkness. On the flaxen beach, silhouettes appeared at the shape of the orange, barely visible sun disc. Only sounds of wind accompanied their sudden arrival and nothing else , as if the place had been eradicated from anything living that could produce sound.

The beautiful, coniferous forest hummed in the short distance from the shore as the duo studied the surroundings, one of them shaking and flapping his wings.

_**You may release your technique**_, the Nadder instructed, looking back at his fellow dragon who was busy removing the salty liquid from his body. He licked his nose furiously to try to remove the salt crystals which had formed there, around his eyes and as he suspected on every part of his body.

As Toothless breathed out and closed his eyes in concentration to safely lower his Tagma levels, the currently-scaleless Nadder took a small, inconspicuous step towards his concentrating pupil.

Toothless opened his toxic coloured eyes and was ready to continue the mission when his eyeballs rolled upwards and he plainly lost consciousness.

At the same moment the Nadder appeared beneath him and with one, swift movement of his neck he threw him across his back. The four-clawed legs dig deeper into the sand with the weight almost equal to the mass of his own body.

In reality it was larger; however, he had troubles with determining how much Toothless weighed, as he barely felt it. It certainly did not hamper his mobility. He dumped the Fury's body by one of the large, beautiful pines.

He corrected his subordinate's frame position, pushing the wing out of his massive chest so it would not be numb in the morning.

He had all night to pursue his objective. It should be more than enough time.

The forest proved to be an excellent playground and hiding place. On instinct, he lowered his Tagma flow in muscles only to small pricks of energy as he sprinted through the woods, dodging the trees with practiced ease. It was a standard action to take when performing a reconnaissance. The more energy he used, the easier it would be to sense him if there happened to be anyone capable of sensing Tagma.

_**Akil,**_ the Nadder thought-sent to himself, and the name echoed a few times. The body of a man as usual floated in his vision. He was always there as long as the Nadder remembered his life.

He jumped from the cliff with the beautiful view of the island, the outstretching forest, a few roads and a ruined and burned village at the distance. The Nadder let himself drop, the air breaking forcibly against his eyes as he regarded the panorama without much interest.

_**Surveillance mode. Standard Tagma flow at two percent, limited at four. Engage,**_ he ordered and with one powerful flap of his wings he stopped his descent just above the ground with a flurry of dirt below him.

His legs connected with the soil and he soundlessly sprinted closer to the human settlements. With the approaching night he moved as a shadow, visible to no one.

* * *

Toothless's conscience stirred to awareness with difficulty and reluctance. After his senses returned, he immediately regretted the clash with reality. His muscles ached with gusto after the ocean travel they had been subjected to. His heart, as usual, ached in the distance of his mind. He had learned a long time ago to keep the technique of lowering the pain in that area active, even when he slept.

He did the same for his legs muscles, increasing the temperature of his body and heightening the heart rate to draw the lingering tiredness from his flesh.

He already planned to stretch and do some basic exercises to relieve the muscle stress. He would have done so straight away if not for how warm he felt, as if he were embraced by something. He breathed out with content and took a deep breath, sniffing the morning dew, the woody odour of the forest, the salt on his body … and the smell of the Nadder by his side.

His eyes snapped open to be submitted to the glory of the First-Speaker's sleeping muzzle snuggling to his neck, his wing nonchalantly slung over his side, pressed tightly to his chest. Toothless blinked to ensure that it was not some sort of a psychical illusion, sighed, closed his eyes and cuddled closer.

It was only a matter of sharing body heat after all, nothing more.

* * *

They had a good rest and, after the morning's hunt and grooming, the two drakes made their way back.

Toothless was not mad at the Nadder for tricking him. It was the Fury's fault for not having the adequate knowledge and skills. Ignorance was never an excuse. Now he was aware that, if he tried to release the Tagma flow from so high levels, he should do it slowly or he would overload his brain and fall unconscious. Thanks to the Master, he did not injure himself and had instead ended up having only a pleasant nap.

Toothless travelled now at high velocity through the ocean, breaking through the mildly-disturbed surface. The waves were higher than the last time, and he had to jump above larger ones. He quickly learned to use his wings to glide a short distance, although it still ate more energy from his body than normal...

…As normal as his current version of travel could be considered normal. Judging from the Nadder, it did not seem to be anything extraordinary. Asked, the Nadder had answered that this method of moving was mostly used as a method of training rather than a mandatory way of travelling. Even if a dragon lost his ability to fly, it did not make the dragon anything less powerful.

This helped Toothless to feel less useless.

From what the First-Speaker managed to establish, the ruined old village had been relieved of its all living, human inhabitants. There had appeared to be a short scuffle and other evidence pointed at the involvement of a force specialised in human capture, one dragon involved.

"What does it mean?" Toothless inquired at one point of their relocation.

_**It means that you- no, our island's humans might be targeted next. Whoever did this raiding was trained in this type of mission, and I have a feeling that this was not the last time it happened. We shall wait for more assignments and the return of our Guide,**_ the Nadder explained shortly.

The whole report Akil prepared for Seven was few hundred times longer.

"What is expected of me?" Toothless asked to his own surprise that he would actually ask for orders. If he wanted to get better, at least he could do so while being useful.

_**If I receive another assignment, you will accompany me again. If not, then you shall rest, train and spend your duty-free time with your human,**_ the more powerful dragon telepathised, …_**and train some more, **_he added after amoment.

Toothless did as was told. They returned when the sun started to shine with more orange hues. He sped towards the house. However, when Toothless turned to look at the beach they had just left, the Nadder was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

The Night Fury snorted at himself to not pay attention to the erratic dragon. He concerned himself with more important things, like when he had to stop again to sneeze with force.

His nose was tingling again.

* * *

**AN: Dun dun dun! Tingling noses! Oh the horror! Anyways I am extremely busy nowadays, working 7 days per week, studying during weekend**.** Please do not expect regular updates for the next 2 months or so. I apologise in , I told myself : No more chapter long introspections! And I almsot did it again. Almost a whole chapter of character development. My, I feel I should start earning big money by writing trashy romance novels in my free time. I also noticed that the previous chapter was much less popular than usual. Well, sci-fi was never a strongly popular genre of literature. Until next time!  
**


	33. Coming Around

_**AN: Thank you to my beta-readers Fjord Mustang and other, metal-loving frog-biter. Love you.**  
_

* * *

_Eleven days later_

The light hurt his eyes, stinging without mercy as he stirred his body. Why was it so bright? It felt as though he were looking directly at the sun. He tried to move his body and, for a short, terrifying moment, he had to fight with his memory on how to move muscles. He could not feel any part of his body.

A short, hoarse groan escaped his lips as he finally began to feel his body again, though it was not the end of his struggle. Another moan, longer and filled with pain. The sharpest pain seemed to radiate from his left leg.

This was not the first time he tried to get back to consciousness. Sometimes he had gained enough awareness that he heard noises, incoherent sounds. They had been a mixture of voices and something else.

Each time he had fought with himself and lost, slipping back into darkness. Two times he thought he had actually regained consciousness. Both times, he thought he had been staring at a white ceiling. He had not been able to do anything, as though his eyes were fixed one point, yet he did not care.

Somehow he had felt relaxed, his mind free of pain, doubt and questions. He had loved the feeling; for the first time he was free from the haunting ability to constantly think about everything, to attack himself with guilt and past. He was, at last, free from himself. Ignorance was, indeed, truly bliss.

Now, coming to again, he opened his eyes. He did not fight back the urge. It seemed as though his body suddenly decided that he was ready to face the world. The room was dimmed, the orange glow danced somewhere in the ceiling, barely noticeable but it was still bright enough to hurt his eyes. He blinked a few times, the action difficult for him as if he have not done it for years and after a few minutes of lying he turned his head slowly to look at his surroundings for a while before he realized that he was lying in his bed in his house.

He knew had just barely woken up from Gods knew-how-long of a slumber, and yet he still felt dead tired. To add to his "comfort," his body was about as responsive as having a long and life-time changing conversation with a rock. (It might be a beautiful rock, but that aspect did not add much to its conversational abilities).

"Wa-wateer...," Hiccup wheezed out, realising how thirsty he was. He felt somebody place a hand under his head and gently lift it up. A cup full of wonderful water was placed to his lips. He drank greedily; most of that water wound up missing his mouth and dripping down his chin.

"Slower...it's all right. It's all right," a deep, soothing voice told him. A newly refilled cup was soon pressed against his lips. Hiccup was not greedy this time and satisfied his thirst in clumsy, small gulps. He coughed a few times, not managing to synchronise breathing with swallowing.

After drinking a more few cups, Hiccup looked to his left and saw his father, one hand supporting the youth's shoulders and back and the other holding a small cloth. The gigantic Viking wiped Hiccup's chin, neck and face, all with a gentleness he almost had never shown. He smiled the whole time, not talking, letting his son gather his thoughts at his own pace.

For the freshly-revived coma patient, it took a few more moments.

While he waited for Hiccup, Stoick gently adjusted his son's body to a more comfortable position. Soon Hiccup found himself semi-seating, his back resting on the bed, head and shoulders supported by pillows.

"Hi Dad," Hiccup finally said hoarsely, deciding that it was a safe greeting, as he did not know what time of the day or night it was.

_Brain function? Check._

"Good evening, son," Dad said cheerfully. He was now standing by the fireplace and pouring something into a bowl. The delicious smell of the "something" made Hiccup's stomach growl with the fury of a wild-tempered Nightmare. His father chuckled merrily and brought over the steaming food.

"It's good t' see ya back among th' livin' again. A few times I thought ya had succumbed t' a Valkyrie's beauty an' went t' th' other side!" He said with happiness.

Hiccup's father put the bowl on his blanket-covered lap. He handed his son a spoon, which the even more gaunt than usual boy took hold of clumsily with his left hand.

"I missed your cooking too much, Dad, so I thought I would stay here fo-," Hiccup coughed," for a while," he finished.

_Sense of sarcasm? Check._

The stew was more than decent, and Hiccup knew it was not hunger making things taste better.

"This is really good," he said after swallowing a generous bite.

"I didn't make it," Stoick admitted honestly.

Hiccup sighed internally, realizing that not everything had changed since the battle. He would still have to keep cooking for himself if he wanted palatable food.

" I got the stew from Berta today. She's such a good woman," Dad said with... wistfulness?

Hiccup smirked slyly and added a mental note to talk to the Mead Hall mistress and then convince his father to spend more time with her.

The boy continued eating. Stoick looked at him the whole time smiling with a proud and warm smile. The silence was, as usual, prevalent between them, but without the usual awkwardness and tension hanging in the air.

Things might change back to the more tense moments of the past, yet both father and son knew that something between them had changed for the better.

It had to.

Neither father nor son wanted to evoke the memories of what had just happened. Now was a time for recollection and trying to knit pieces of the past together into an acceptable picture. Hopefully it would come together sooner than expected.

However, now was the time to eat and enjoy the soothing silence of each other's company.

Hiccup ate without hurry, slowing down further as he progressed. His stomach, not used for solid food for quite some time, apparently did not enjoy being abruptly subjected to large chunks of matter.

After the food was done, Hiccup returned his almost-empty plate back to his gigantic caretaker with a few words of gratitude. He used the moment of distraction to pave the way for bringing up another issue.

Hiccup took a deeper breath and readied himself. Then he lifted the covers.

"Dad?" He said casually as he looked down his lower body.

"Yes, son?" Stoick asked, turning askew from where he was stacking dishes in a bucket for washing them later.

Hiccup's gaze was wide- eyed with shocked surprise and horror at what he now saw under the covers, "Am I...?"

His father hissed a quick, steadying breath, preparing himself for this most dreaded moment when Hiccup realized the truth about his bedridden condition.

"...am I ...wearing a diaper?" Hiccup's shocked tone required an immediate answer.

His tone of voice would go perfectly with a delicately lifted eyebrow and a deadpan expression. Hiccup knew that, and he did exactly that.

Stoick sighed powerfully with relief, "Yes, son...yes ya 're," he said with a perfectly controlled tone.

He returned to the side of Hiccup's bed, lowering himself onto a stool which squeaked under the weight.

Hiccup waited for his father to make himself comfortable and then closed his tired eyes.

"I see I'm also missing part of my left leg," the teen said as casually as he could.

He let the words hung in the air. Hiccup then heard a stifled breath, a stoic shift of the large body in the small chair and that was it, just the way he wanted it and was used to.

He did not want to hear his father's pained words, and yet they came.

"Hiccup... I..."

"Well, come on! It's not like I'm dead or anything like that! Not many people could've escaped from fighting a gigantic embodiment of horror and destruction with just a missing leg... a small missing part of the leg," Hiccup forced his words into a light-hearted tone. He wanted to add more humour into this. He was a Viking. Losing a leg was no big deal, after all. It was not.

"Yer right about that, son!" Stoick agreed, slapping his hand gently on his offspring's shoulder," An' here I thought ya'd take it hard an' start cryin' an I'd hav' t' tell somethin' comforting...an' ... an'... I'm not so good in that department" he breathed with relief," Glad it didn't happen, lad, " he grinned broadly.

He pointed his finger at the wincing Hiccup who was now massaging his gently slapped shoulder. "Gently" was a very relative term where Stoic was concerned.

"Sorry 'bout that, son."

"No problem...and glad to be of assistance, Dad. If you need to avoid more emotional breakdowns from me, please let me know. I'll be happy to schedule my tantrums so you won't have to watch," the injured teen said, unable to hide a small smile on his lips.

After a second both of them erupted into rapturous laughter.

It was a joyous moment that ended too soon for Hiccup's taste, as he could not remember where they shared a moment of mirth together before. It must have been a long time ago, or even …never.

"So, Hiccup, how ar' ya feelin'?" Stoick asked after a longer moment of refreshing silence.

In reply, his maimed son smiled, honestly and truthfully.

"Like a dragon bit my leg off," Hiccup answered, letting his eyes close in content exhaustion.

The village leader was astounded at what his only child had just said.

"How do ya know that?" He asked when he could speak again.

Silence was the only reply, and Stoic thought Hiccup had fallen asleep.

Instead, the youth was considering how to formulate his response. He could have said that it was a joke, that he merely tried to guess. That would just have brushed the topic away.

He _would_ have done this, however, he wanted to change things as much as his father wanted. Hiccup was sure of it. He had lied and deceived enough whilst he had been protecting Toothless, and it was time to show his true side.

This what was families usually did, they were honest with each other, supported each other and resolved problems together… at least this was what he a read a family should do.

"I had a dream," Hiccup breathed out, enjoying the darkness beneath his eyelids and he heard a squeak of the stool, "It was one of those good dreams I rarely have. In this dream, Toothless saved me... again," he said with drowsiness seeping into his tone.

"Did you know that dragons are warm, Dad? Their bodies are not cold, they are always warm," he yawned, not caring to see what face his father wore at that time, "Toothless saved me, but I had to pay a small price. A tiny token of appreciation," a smile crept on the youth's face as he talked about losing his leg, "It's what some people would call poetic justice. Now we are even...," Hiccup recalled words from the religious book he read years ago, " 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth...'," he smiled wider, "…or... a limb for a limb. I mean, I couldn't ask for a better outcome. It's good, it really is. Do you understand that, father?"

Hiccup opened his bloodshot dark-green eyes, looking deeply into his father's light-green irises.

The Chieftain's face was pale, and his hand squeezed the material on his trousers hard.

"Do you?"

Hiccup's face had a cherubic look to it, an innocent kind of happiness. The Chieftain dug his fingers further into his leg-wear, feeling the hard pressure of his digits on the muscles.

What had his son just said? Why would he say such a thing? Those now oddly-mature eyes of his contrasted so much with his boyish appearance. glowing like the edge of a razor-sharp blade.

Hiccup's mirthful grimace softened, and his father felt a creeping tingle going up his spine.

"Dad, where is Toothless?" The thin teen asked, scanning the dim room for his scaled companion.

"Dad?" He asked again, when he received no answer.

Stoick blinked, relaxing his already numb hand, "Dad?" Hiccup said again with a hint of worry.

"Ah, yes. Th' dragon..." the massive man breathed deeper, "He, um, he is missing, son."

Hiccup's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"We do not know where it...he is," Dad continued, "Four days ago he disappeared, an' he did not come back."

Hiccup's eyes widened and his mouth opened as he wanted to say something. He decided against it and he looked up weakly, "He will come back. I'm sure he has his reasons," he said quietly, barely enough for another person to hear.

The extreme tension was broken at that moment by the loud grumbling from the famished teen's stomach.

"Yer hungry, I take it?" The Chieftain posed an obvious question, moving away from the bed with guilty relief. He scooped up a bowl from the hearth, along with his composure.

Stoick poured a generous amount of lamb stew into the bowl "Here, it's somethin' more substantial than chicken soup," he offered with what he hoped was a warm smile.

Hiccup answered with his own strained and awfully artificial smile, muttering thanks. Even as he ate, his eyes sometimes casted upwards, as if searching for something. His brows furrowed in unwavering concentration as he thought furiously, not caring how tasty his first meal in two weeks was.

_Lack of Toothless by my side..._

He masticated, feeling less alive than when he was unconscious.

_...Check_

* * *

His son fell asleep soon after the hefty nourishment. He lay still in bed, now, his back turned away as his mind had disappeared from the world.

The father looked at the son, eyes stopped at his frame as he stood by the door, a safe distance from the lad.

How long he stood, he could not tell. He wanted a fresh start, a new opening for them both. It was the beginning of something new, and he could not quite understand it.

What Hiccup had said, _how_ he had said it...was that really how his son thought?

Stoick could not comprehend the reasons why his son acted as he had.

Valhallarama, his wife and Hiccup's mother, had been so much better in intution than he. Val would have been the one to tell him what Hiccup's actions meant, how to act. And Stoick would have followed her intuition without question. Without her now he felt more lost than ever.

While Hiccup had lain in a coma, Stoick had taken a long time to conjure a plan, developing it as a battle tactic to work flawlessly.

The Battle Plan:

1. Talk to his son.

2. Tell him about his leg.

3. Comfort him of his loss.

4. Tell him about the dragon's disappearance.

5. Comfort him.

6. Repeat as necessary.

It all worked well in Stoick's mind; every gesture and word flew effortlessly, a jubilant and loving bond restored.

It had all seemed so much easier when Hiccup was still unconscious. His plan had anticipated that his only child would feel some sort of grief, sadness over the lost limb. It was a permanent injury, an addition to his already maimed and scarred existence.

Instead... Hiccup's smile... it crept into Stoick's thoughts. So innocent, so... happy.

His son acted as if he was glad of how fate forged the events.

Almost as if he had _wanted_ it to happen.

How could he connect to his son when, after barely a few hours of spending time with him, Stoick felt even farther away from him than before?

* * *

Another battle won.

"Next!" Astrid shouted without much care. This fighting had swiftly become very routine for her. Today's routine was mainly concerned with three young women, two remaining after the last bout of fighting. One now had a broken nose, and the other clutched her side with a grimace full of pain.

Her newest opponent was a young female Viking even more tremendous in posture and strength.

This daily duelling had all begun after their battle with the creature her people now called the _Red Death_ because of the Hel-ish flames that accompanied the battle. _Their battle_... that is how her people now saw it. And they knew that she had played a major role in destruction of the beast that had forced the dragons to attack Berk so relentlessly.

Astrid knew she had two strong hands and an able mind, and yet she knew she was nothing compared to the forces Hiccup had needed to overcome in dealing with his draconic friend.

These duels had various purposes. Most of them were to prove Astrid's strength, as she was now recognised as a village hero. With increasing frequency and ferocity, she had found other young, and not married women challenging her to duels in an attempt to discourage Astrid from pursuing her interest with Hiccup. The blonde shield-maiden thought these women were simply letting fickle jealousy drive them.

How they had known that Astrid had changed her mind about the now-admired youth was beyond her understanding. It was probably either women's intuition or the omnipresent gossip. Probably both.

Her newest opponent took a stance.

Astrid paused before she raised her unarmed hands, each tied tightly in a bandage marked with several blood stains on the knuckles. She did not care about the pain. She knew her superficial wounds would mysteriously disappear before the sun rose tomorrow. It was unnatural healing, and yet Astrid felt comfortable with herself these days.

She turned her head briefly to the side. A strange sensation of being observed from afar had not left her since she had started the first duel for the day. She now spotted a piercing, black pupil amidst the yellowish pool of a draconic eye staring between the trees in the distance. Just like the last time she had seen that eye, she found the gaze hypnotic, filled with a calculating intelligence that was so very cold.

"Hey! Ya ready?" Her opponent asked, ready to pounce at any moment.

"Yeah..." Astrid replied, not looking back at the opponent. She kept her eyes at half-mast, trying to appear thoughtful and detached. Superior. She had won every fight fairly and yet with an inhuman swiftness. Most likely, this bout would end the same way.

Her contender took Astrid's behaviour as patronising. She did not waste time after that perception. Instead, she growled and took a step with a lightning-fast sword strike at the gold-haired shield maiden.

She did not see the next two movements of Astrid's hand, but she certainly _felt _them well. First, her striking hand was shoved aside and then she flew backwards. Next, an excruciating pain paralysed her as her solar plexus was slammed with the force of a hammer. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

"Are we settled,?" Astrid said calmly to the remaining women. She repeated the same mantra she used after all the fights these days. She looked briefly at the fallen woman and then at her hand.

The sensation of the Nadder staring at her was gone. The dragon never attempted to contact her directly, always keeping distance. Yet Astrid knew the dragon was very much now a part of her life. She would never forget seeing the blue-hued beast combat the monstrous Red Death.

Compared to the Nadder, compared to Hiccup she was...

"...Still too weak, huh?" She quietly questioned herself. She spared her remaining opponents any further attention as she turned to leave.

* * *

The dragons clattered against each other softly as he ran his fingers over them. They were all finished now, the Night Fury taking pride of place in the middle of the wooden flock.

Fishlegs felt joy as he looked at the results of his craftsmanship.

He had one last project to finish. The big lump of wood stood on his desk, now void of its usual scrolls. His manuscripts were covered with scraps of wood.

The figure he was working on had started resembling a dragon - or something similar.

Making this figure of the Red Death was a good way of dealing with his emotions and thoughts after the fight.

Fishlegs' whole family was safe, luckily, and he was alive as well. What was missing, though, were the dragons. Mainly, the Gronckle who had accompanied him had disappeared right after the fight. Fishlegs thought she probably enjoyed her freedom now, flying somewhere far away from the village and from him.

It had bothered the young ship-builder only for a short while until he saw Berk filled with dragons. That had been the most joyous day of his life. And yet yesterday, for some reason, they had all left. Fishlegs had wandered the whole island in search for them, failing to find any clue about their disappearance.

He now preferred an active approach to a problem to spending days musing over it. Hiccup had taught him that. Fishlegs would have never thought his friend was capable of such way of thinking. The scrawny youth had spent years closed in his room, practicing archery in in secret and going out into public only when dragons showed up to stir up problems.

The Fury must have changed Hiccup. That had to be it.

The room's door opened and one of his brothers- Gutspasm- entered. Without knocking first, of course.

"Hey, Dad's sayin' he needs you to come down an' help with mast calibration or somethin'," he grunted.

Fishlegs nodded in agreement, not moving from his spot.

His brother remained in place, staying longer than was necessary to relay a message," An', Fishlegs, when I was running a few errands in town, I heard news about that Toothpick boy finally waking up... I thought you might want to visit him... or something," Gutspasm said and turned immediately to leave.

"Thank you," Fishlegs said, feeling his mood brightening. His relationship with his brother was surely not one filled with fluff, however both youths cared about each other deeply.

"Whatever," Gutspasm waved his hand nonchalantly and left, closing the door behind him.

Fishlegs stretched, his mind not focused on the task his father wanted of him but on the possibilities village hero's wakening represented.

At last, Fishlegs would have several of his questions answered.

* * *

Ruffnut was the first to find him, buried in the covers.

The thud and muffled curse woke him up and he looked around blearily, utterly confused, his rest disturbed.

"_Whashoinon_?" Hiccup slurred, semi sitting and barely conscious.

He thought it was a dream as he heard his bed creek with a new weight and then a pressure against his chest and back. It took a moment more to register that somebody was embracing him and a moment more for him to hug back and smile.

"How have you been?" He asked softly, feeling almost-white hair silkily smoothing his cheek and neck.

He could still smell the soap lingering in the soft braids.

"As for me, I am fine; almost as good as new...uh, Ruff?" He asked, futilely trying to look back at the girl's face. He started feeling his face heat up, not knowing what to do and how to handle the prolonged gesture, "I mean, I got a few bruises and scratches and sort of lost a leg, but I don't mind. I was never left -footed, and my big toe was _too_ big and was twisted a bit to the left so-"

"Shut up," he heard a dull request in a voice he had never heard or expected from Ruffnut, "Just shut up, please."

The embracing arms disappeared just as completely as his drowsiness.

Hiccup had to say something more, an irresistible need to explain himself growing in him, as if he had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry for causing you worry," he apologised huskily, not really knowing why.

Instead of being chastised, Ruffnut now hugged him tighter.

Their contact was broken soon after as the girl leaned backwards and, for a quick moment, she did not let him see her face. Instead, she looked down at the covers.

Then, her usual cocky and most-natural-looking smirk emerged, right along with her twinkling gray-blue eyes. Hiccup was fully convinced that everything was all right in the world. Things were made even better since was being hugged by a good friend. A very good friend.

"Can I get you anything?" Ruffnut asked, surprising Hiccup once more. She had hand-fed him once, so he should expect her to have a softer side besides her usual feisty and spirited exterior.

"Water would suffice, m'lady," Hiccup asked with a slight bow of his head.

"How about I make you some herbal tea? I am sure you'll want to refresh your breath after all that pillow-hugging," the blonde said with a teasing smile. She was already looking for the mentioned mixture.

"T-thanks," the boy said, chagrined.

Outside the door, Stoick's sonorous voice rumbled as he addressed people on the doorstep. From the bits of information Hiccup had learned since his recovery, his father was telling the visitors to come back later.

_A good decision_, the auburn-haired teenager thought. He looked at Ruffnut rummaging through the various clay containers above the fireplace.

"Second one on the left," Hiccup offered helpfully and then asked, "How did you get here anyway, Ruff? My dad is outside and does not seem happy to let anyone get inside."

"I used the back door," Ruffnut answered simply, using a poker to snag the small water-filled cauldron that hung above the cracking fire.

The voice outside raised in volume, finishing its monologue, and a few audible groans sounded through the wooden door.

Exactly twenty two seconds later Hiccup heard a thudding of what seemed to be several people's feet stamping outside the back door Ruffnut had so conveniently used.

He reacted by pulling the covers up as a fairly decent form of protection, a few teenagers crashed through the doorway and tumbled on the stone floor.

At the bottom of the pile was Tuffnut, courteously squashed by Fishlegs. Snotlout proudly crowned the top of the heap.

"Ha! I told you it was open!" The king of the Heap of Bodies exclaimed proudly.

"Yes!" Fishlegs said excitedly, not seeming to be bothered that he had just fallen to the floor.

His current organic mattress had a different opinion.

"Finally... I can see Asgard from here..," Tuffnut said weakly, raising his hand dramatically.

"Hi guys," Hiccup said dryly from the bed.

"Still not dead?"

"Hello!"

"Pain! So much pain!"

"Hiccup? Ya good? I've heard some…," Stoick said as he entered the house and looked at the fallen young warriors. Then he looked at the pretty girl leaning over the cooking kettle and striking a very hospitable and homemaker-like pose,"…noise," he finished quietly, standing in the doorway.

"Good afternoon, Chief!" Fishlegs greeted as he stood up with a polite bow, almost knocking Snotlout over in the process.

"'Sup uncle?" Hiccup's overly confident cousin said.

"B-best of days to you, Chieftain," Tuffnut uttered timidly after stumbling to his feet and bowing.

Ruffnut merely nodded, not stopping from stirring the pot, "Hello, Leader."

Stoick scrutinised this unexpected scene. He then locked eyes with his son, who gave an almost undetectable nod.

"Right, then. Listen up, you lot. Food is in th' cabinet beneath th' stairs," Stoick pointed at the furniture hidden in the shadows," Mead an' other alcohol is in th' cupboard in front of Hiccup's bed," he gave a gesture in the right direction.

He turned to leave, although held on for a moment to give last instructions, "There is one glass bottle in there. I want that left untouched. D' whatever ya want with th' rest. I'm comin' back after th' sunset. Try not to destroy anything, please. And Hiccup...," he looked at the bed-ridden boy with a face full of uncertainty and awkwardness, "I'm going... and love ya, son."

The Haddock's heir's eyes widened and looked to the other youths in the room, visibly ashamed. Nevertheless, he answered honestly, "Safe ventures... love you, too, Dad."

Stoick beamed and, with a rapid turn and flutter of his cape, he left. He had taken a few steps down the stairs when he heard:

"Free booze! Yeah!"

His smile widened, and he marched to his duties more briskly and with more happiness than he had felt in years.

* * *

"I'm tellin' you, this is the coolest thing that's ever happened to you, Hiccup! Losing a leg, man! All the chicks will dig you! Heh, they already do," Tuffnut proclaimed as he gestured his mug-wielding hand a tad too much, spilling its golden contents onto the table.

Hiccup pecked at his food slowly, praying that he would not throw up. His stomach was very sensitive at how much he could stuff inside. He really wanted to eat as much as possible, but his body had other ideas. He learned that he could not walk and had to rely on Fishlegs to carry him to the table.

The whole group was sitting around the table, each person with a mug by his or her side and a plate full of heated stew, salted cod, flat bread and more. (Basically, anything which could go with the mead).

"Yeah! We should totally think about a Viking name for you since you still don't have one," Snotlout added his views, looking around for approval of his genius.

"How about the Dragon Master?" Fishlegs exclaimed first.

"The Most Dangerous Weapon in the World!" Tuffnut followed.

"I thought you wanted that wanted as your name, Tuff?" Snotlout asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm willing to share," the Thorston twin said generously, inspecting his nails.

"Well, whatever, I think those names are lame! I believe ' Red Death Slayer' would be much better," Snotlout said with finality.

Hiccup did not join in, although he listened intently.

"What do you think, Ruff?" The dark-haired young swordsman asked the only girl in the room as he helped himself to an ample gulp of beverage.

Ruffnut surveyed Hiccup's face for a longer moment. She now almost lay across the table, her hand supporting her head. She opened her mouth, and then the door opened behind the group, preventing her from speaking.

The last member of the Dragon Training unit entered, first gazing around the room with uncertainty. When seeing the gleeful shenanigans, Astrid entered without hesitation. She closed the sturdy door behind her and greeted everyone.

Hiccup's face brightened with an unrestrained grin. The shield-maiden walked through the room, flicking the stubborn lock of hair from her face nervously.

She was self-conscious of how she appeared. She was the only one here not dressed in her everyday clothes. Instead, she wore a one- piece, ankle-length blue dress. Freyia be her witness, she had even decided to wear some simple jewellery, her favourite silver necklace with the oval black onyx and some copper bracelets. Only her hair appeared as usual, head-band on the forehead with a strand of hair covering her right eye.

With the young, female population of the village already jealous of her and spoiling for a fight, Astrid knew her outfit would stir up more problems for her, however it was worth it. She had dressed up for Hiccup. The young man deserved her respect of him- and for her to look her best for him. Especially everything he had done and gone through. Including saving their village.

Ruffnut promptly vacated the chair next to Hiccup and moved towards the food-laden counter, heading away from the late visitor.

Astrid took the vacant seat. She looked at the Thorston twin sister with a gaze Hiccup could not quite identify. Worry, sadness or anger? He was never good at reading women.

The small party resumed.

As the young Viking inventor suspected, the topics rolled from more mundane to more focused.

Fishlegs and Astrid engaged Hiccup in some sociological discussion concerning the future of the tribe. Even though the village accepted the dragons, there were still many issues to resolve.

The main one was that there were no longer any dragons in the village to accept. They had simply disappeared. The only one left was Snotlout's Firewyrm.

Hiccup did not know the reason for that to Fishlegs' displeasure, although the massive ship builder asked a simple question after that revelation.

"Still, there must be something more you know about dragons, something you wanted to tell us, but you couldn't before now, right?" Fishlegs asked with an almost desperate tone.

Hiccup ruffled his unkempt hair and looked down.

It was time for the truth. He looked at the people gathered around him. His teammates. Friends. Warriors who had come through fire and ash by his side. He owed them. He owed them so much.

A hand softly folded around his, and he gasped silently as Astrid took his hand beneath the table and gave him an assuring nod.

"Of course,' Legs. I am sorry for waiting so long with this, and believe me, I'm very happy to get it off from my chest. Also...thank you, guys," he looked into everybody's eyes," Without your support, I would not be here."

Snotlout and Tuffnut respectively snorted and laughed from the mushiness of the confession. Fishlegs smiled along with Astrid, who held the boy's hand tighter. Ruffnut's expression did not change as she observed them across the table.

"All right. Here's what really happened and how and why I learned the truth about dragons," Hiccup started in a strong voice, immediately catching the attention of the group, "It all began one night when...," he stopped and his thoughts shifted for a moment to the empty pile blankets on the floor by his bed. Ones that had still held shape of a Night Fury's curled-up body.

His eyes hardened and he said without hesitation,"... when I almost killed a being who would ultimately wind up saving me from destroying myself in a mindless chase after an illusion."

* * *

"…And that's basically all I know so far about dragons," Hiccup said, sipping the herbal tea with fresh apple bits floating in it. The drink was a relief to his sore throat after such a long talk. How he had missed this brew!

Nobody spoke. Nobody stirred. Four loose jaws gaped at him. One jaw remained tight as its owner kept her composure, but she continued to keep a warmly-supporting grasp on Hiccup's hand.

Hiccup slurped his tea loudly through the silence.

"So, let me get this straight," Tuffnut broke the trance," Dragons are not only as intelligent as humans, have feelings and all that stuff, but they can also use magic?"

Hiccup smacked his lips and his fingers dived into the cup for an apple bit while Tuffnut continued.

"And also, Hiccup, you are some sort of extended family to the most dangerous dragon ever known because you danced between the lines and also… Toothless used some of his...um,magic to heal you and train you against your will."

Hiccup finally got the apple bit out. Those never, _ever_ surrendered without a fight!

"Yeah, that's a good way of summing it up, Tuff," he agreed, chewing the tasty fruit with gusto.

"Sooo...?" Snotlout said with uncertainty, but appeared then more nervous than perplexed.

_That's a good question,_ Hiccup thought,_ what now?_

The talk unfolded slowly, but it did slip into a heated discussion as Fishlegs joined with his views after his brain digested what he called "The most awesome thing ever".

Hiccup summarised his plans for the future though, ultimately, ending the flow of opinions.

He made it clear to his companions that his new dragon knowledge should not be passed on directly to other Vikings. Not without being modified to more Viking-like standards.

No talking about dragon's intelligence, for instance, as they had no proof and Toothless "said" (by writing in the dirt) that it all depended on the enigmatic mind-training.

The truth was that there were still too many uncertainties and, without more information, passing on uncertain information would bring more harm than good, especially in a society as deeply rooted in war against dragonkind as theirs.

Hiccup's mind had conjured many scenarios in which the dragons' true nature was discovered in the past. He had analysed them deeply.

He had thought about doing it simply by demonstrating Toothless' writing ability. His visions always ended with a faceless individual striking the dragon with an axe once the Vikings saw the dragon "writing". Hiccup's people would have seen the dragon as blasphemy against the Gods, a dark form of magic or some sort of trick.

Berkians had stubbornness issues and could be very superstitious, as Hiccup now explained, to begin a change they would need to present this new knowledge first to his father and then to the Elder.

They needed support in the form of established authorities. From what Hiccup understood, his father had already pushed through the law constituting keeping dragons in the village and preventing them from harm.

It was all too fresh, and all nuances about why and how to treat these ex-enemies would develop with time.

Fishlegs added that the Elder was also in Stoick's group, and that was happy news, indeed. The first step was already done, thanks to the continuous work of his father and people like him and,what Hiccup guessed correctly, also included countless hours of talk and barrels of mead.

Beneath the surface of change, however, the old ways and feelings were kept sustained. And some Vikings resented those old ways and feelings being changed.

One fraction, Fishlegs explained, was even speaking about leaving the island. Nobody dared to dwell into the dark truth beneath that viewpoint.

Any Berkian who would willingly leave the island without the Elder's and Chieftain's approval and blessing would be immediately considered a traitor. Hiccup knew first-hand what awaited such outlaws.

Berk law was fair but extremely strict. War demanded absolute obedience, and lenience was a luxury only lands blessed with peace could afford.

Therefore, the youths would attend a formal meeting with Berkian officials and tell part of the truth after they had probed the villagers' attitude towards dragons. In the meantime, they would try to find out where the dragons had left and why.

One of the simplest explanations was that, after the Red Death was slain, the dragons had no reason to stay any longer. Why would they?

Hiccup still wondered to himself why would Toothless first get close to him, save his life and then leave Hiccup?

Perhaps dragons saw loyalty very differently than humans did.

"Hiccup?" Somebody asked.

"One last thing," Berk's first dragon rider said, unperturbed that he had probably missed several things while deep in thought.

His expression hardened, and he spoke in a serious tone, his hushed and hoarse voice amplifying the effect, "Did anything happened to any of you when I was out? Anything you cannot explain?"

He locked eyes with Snotlout who already knew where this topic was going. Snotlout's eyes, now void of mirth, spoke his answer.

"Anything you would count as supernatural? Magical? Weird dreams?" Hiccup continued.

Astrid shifted nervously by his side, something Hiccup immediately noticed.

"Astrid, Snotlout, may I talk to you alone, please?" Hiccup asked in a polite tone, looking at nobody in particular.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut exchanged a glance that only siblings could understand and Fishlegs scowled.

"Why? What's going on?" He asked, not wanting to be left out.

"Yes. Exactly. Why?" Ruffnut asked, talking in an almost hostile tone.

Hiccup's first response that figured in his mind was, "Because I think I freaked you out enough for one day," however, he decided not to voice it and wait for the situation to develop.

He was not the best person when it came to social situations, and he had no possible idea how to handle this situation. Perhaps he had gone too far. Perhaps the conversation should have ended already.

"Is there something you don't want to tell us?"

"What's going on, Hiccup?"

"Don't you trust us enough?"

"Enough!" Astrid slightly raised her voice, ending the rising tumult, "Enough...please. One of us is already pushing himself hard to talk, especially in his condition. We shouldn't yell," she sighed and looked at Hiccup.

Only Ruffnut looked ashamed of herself, something she showed for the first time in the group. The others were too occupied in looking at the shield-maiden to notice it, all except Astrid. She looked at Hiccup and put a strained smile.

"I am all right with telling you, but...," she bit her lip and Fishlegs' face darkened as he thought he would hear another excuse, "I'm just unsure as to how to explain it to you. I am not sure what happened, all I know that when Hiccup, Snotlout and I had our turn to fight in the Ring, something odd happened. All I can tell that _something _happened and that it makes me afraid...even today."

_Yeah...this talk should have ended long ago_, Hiccup thought as the silence filled the room.

Astrid never admitted to her fear. Never.

Hiccup pressed his hand against the side of his face, covering one eyes. Even in the fire-lit room, his eyes got tired easily. He felt a pressure inside his skull. He knew this feeling. His visible eye, glazed and narrowed. He looked up at the ceiling- and saw exactly what he had hoped to see.

"So... why don't we ask the one responsible for all of these strange happenings?" Hiccup said, looking fearlessly up at the slit black pupil boring into his own.

The Nadder dropped soundlessly from the balks as an enormous shadow. He then stood directly in front of Hiccup, his body hidden mostly in the shadows, his eyes seeming to glow eerily. He could not break the eye contact, but he caught how the body was white, how mutilated it appeared and how something fluoresced amidst the dragon's chest.

The boy did not count the table as any sort of physical barrier against the invader; it helped him mentally though. He forced himself to stop looking at the gleaming draconic orbs and he quicly surveyed his immediate area. Everybody except him seemed to have been frozen in time.

He noticed a slow rise and fall of Snotlout's chest. The force on his mind did not subside. This was, obviously, another show of draconic "magic". When he looked back, the yellowish eye glowed within an arm's reach before his face.

There was no hatred or murder intent in the gaze. There was absolutely nothing the boy could relate to.

His sight started to blur and his head to swim.

_Not yet, you bastard,_ Hiccup thought putting every ounce of his determination into keeping awake.

In response the pressure on his mind strengthened, making him drop his head and upper body on the table.

"W-here...," he wheezed out, "where's... Too...Toothless?" He breathed out.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. Everything would end if he went to sleep...

He bit his lip until he felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"Answer...mmhee."

The power holding him easily doubled in strength, and he felt as if his brain was being pricked alive with burning rods.

He did not care; he was so fed up of being useless. Of always being left out, of having a dream and no means of fulfilling it.

He would not lose the most important piece of his life. Without it, he would be as good as dead, and he would not be strong enough to live with another loss.

The previous one had left him barely alive and with no past memories.

He grinded his teeth together to the point his jaw hurt. Gore seeped through his nose.

_**Safe**_

That was not his voice. Nor was it his mind or entangled thoughts.

It was alien. It was assuring.

"That's...good...," he whispered as he relaxed and the drive to subdue him lessened, now lulling him gently into rest, the blissful ignorance of time and reality.

He forgot he still held Astrid's palm, and his hand slipped away to his side.

_**He is safe**_

* * *

**AN: I am sorry for such short chapter and a cliff-hanger. Originally I wanted it to be a longer chapte that would include what will happen to Hiccup, but I thought that I should publish something. Waiting more than a month for an update is a disgrace. Thanks for reading and see you in a few weeks.**_**  
**_


	34. Turning Pages

**AN: Thank you to my beta-readers, Fjord Mustang and the frog-chaser. To the readers. For the better understanding of Hiccup's characterisation in this chapter you might consider re-reading chapter 2 and last chapter to connect those two together. Forward now.**

* * *

Somehow, he knew what he would see after waking up. Somehow, he was ready to have his life filled with something bigger than he was. Somehow, after he met Toothless he was certain his life would never be the same.

There was the white ceiling again. This time, he was aware of his own presence. Not as quick, blurry flash just before he woke up, rather he could feel his body and he could hear somebody humming a melody. A feminine voice thrummed a beautiful and doleful tune. He listened to the mesmerising song before he realised that he could move himself and sat up. First, he noticed the white, silky covers that dropped from his chest-his vest covered chest. He touched the clothes he now wore. The material felt like water between his fingers, cool and smooth as air.

The tuneful piece did not stop, and he slowly looked upward towards its source.

He thought that this was a good opening to a dream. He had had such vivid fantasies before, such as when he slept by Toothless' side. At first, those visions had scared him. How could a mixture between fantasy and reality blend together and move him? Later, he looked forward to the visions. He believed that they served as some sort of guide through the changes he was experiencing and his view on life.

The woman who just now produced the sound had a look of perfection no mortal could have possessed.

Her cascades of golden -authentically golden- hair fell beyond her waistline .This is what was what had captured Hiccup's attention at first. It was impossible to miss: the hair had a reflective property and shimmered from white to glowing yellow, even when the woman barely moved, only her chest slowly exhaling as she created another wonderful tune.

…It was the chest that Hiccup paid special attention to. After all this was _his_ dream, so he could enjoy ogling a pair of well-formed and sizable breasts, their outline clearly visible through a garment much similar to the one he currently wore.

His tranquil meditation was disturbed when the music stopped, and he quickly looked upwards at the woman's face.

He noticed her playful smirk and then the heat hit his face.

Full red lips, screaming of erotism, surrounding by pale, almost-glowing, pristine skin, a delicate nose and eyes...

He quickly lowered his gaze.

He had just seen something he did not find beautiful, the only thing he wished his fantasy would not include.

Those crystal blue, cold, soul-drilling eyes. They never changed; they did not shine or reflect any light. They were opaque and hollow, as the darkness at the end of an abyss, void of anything. The rich blue colouring only seemed to futilely mask it.

There was a soft, ruffling sound. Hesitantly, Hiccup looked up and saw the greatest female creation of his mind simply reading a book. She turned a page of a modest-sized tome inside its simple green leather cover. She seemed fully absorbed in reading whatever the booklet was about.

Hiccup groaned loudly as he remembered what had happened before.

Planning future objectives with the others and the Nadder in his all seriously overpowered glory. What he found peculiar was that he could still feel the numbness in his nose from the bleeding, and small part of his lip where he had bit himself, cutting into the flesh. A bit of pain flared when his tongue probed the damaged area.

"I hate the aftertaste blood leaves in one's mouth," he said to his mind's latest projection, deliberately smacking his lips and making a face of disgust.

The perfect-fantasy woman's lips curled upwards again, and she very slightly raised a blond eyebrow in mild amusement.

Hiccup surveyed the woman again, stopping at her chest once more," You're quite tall, aren't you?" He accosted skilfully, keeping his viewpoint steady.

The woman swung one long leg over the other, her legs as white as her clothes. A lace-less, calf-length boot came into view.

Hiccup barely noticed it, rather concentrated on... something else.

"Your comment of blood in the mouth is such an interesting way to start a conversation with a stranger," the paragon of attractiveness spoke in a rich, mellifluous alto.

"Hey, it's my dream, my rules," Hiccup replied with a flair of youthful negligence.

The woman smiled gently at the remark and raised her hand to her chest, bending fingers as if to flick something, clearly for the lust-overcome boy to see.

Hiccup looked curiously at the bent digits and, as his numbed brain predicted, they flicked in the air - and he yelped in pain.

"Oh Gods, that hurts!" Hiccup grabbed at a deeply-throbbing spot on his forehead.

He _ha_d been hit. He looked at the woman through moist eyes.

_How?_

"As much as I do not mind your doing _that_," in some mysterious way, she accented the _"that"_ word in a way even the most mentally challenged person on the planet would know what she was talking about," I believe that this, in your culture, it is considered a strong gaffe," she said ever-so-pleasantly.

"Well, that's new. My fantasies are now reprimanding me, using dragon magic to almost blow my brain out of my skull. I also need to check the data on my fetish for older women," Hiccup commented bitterly, massaging the pulsating spot.

Between the sensation of getting physically stricken, the distinctive feeling of eldritch energies manifested in that little demonstration was unmistakable.

Not wanting to look at the gorgeous female and earn another punishment, he looked around. The whole room was white. The light, much gentler than the usual sunlight and steadier than a flame, certainly came from the inside of the ceiling wall, equally brightening the entire cubical space. One of the walls had cracks in it. As he evaluated the sight, those were not as much cracks so much as some sort of line carvings. He disregarded it quickly, finishing his survey of the room.

Beside his simple but very comfortable bed, white, silky sheets, a cosy pillow and one stool, there was nothing else there.

A page was flipped.

Hiccup took a breath and rubbed his eyes.

* * *

He opened his eyes. The ceiling was dark and woody now. He sat upright, hissing as he felt the pain on his stump. He heard a soft breathing, not his own. He smiled softly as he saw his father, sitting by the supporting beam and sleeping, head hung low on his chest.

Hiccup needed to use a certain place even Chieftains had to walk to, but he did not want to wake up his caretaker. He lifted the blankets as quietly as possible, being careful not to make the bed squeak.

"How are ya, son?"

So much for being sneaky.

"Excellent, how about you?" Hiccup answered automatically.

Stoick adjusted his helmet that had slid down slightly as he slept," Good... good. Now," he said in grimmer tone, "what happened last night?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing, why?" The boy said again without thinking.

"Because a healer was called into th' house an' he found ya with a bleedin' nose an' lip. Again, _what_ happened?" Stoick asked. The order was clear even though he did not raise his voice.

"I don't know what happened," Hiccup answered, not looking into his father's eyes.

"Did ya fight? Who did this t' ya? Snotlout? Was tha' him again?" The Chieftain said darkly. Hiccup's head rapidly turned and saw how furious Stoick was under his calm demeanour.

"No, dad! No! It wasn't him... it's not that... oh Gods, it's complicated," the panicked teenager offered quickly.

"Then how 'bout tellin' me th' truth?" Stoick asked, a cold fury no longer present in the voice, but still tense in his demeanour.

Hiccup bit his lip nervously to his regret; he plainly felt his lip's swollen spot. He settled back to sweep his hair with his hand. He did not want lie to his father anymore, but on the other hand there was no possible way in Midgard that he, or almost anyone, would believe him.

He needed to talk to one of the group who was with him yesterday.

"Dad... I can't tell you that. I'm-I'm sorry," he apologised sincerely and met his father's eyes without wavering, "But believe me when I say that nobody did this to me. We just had fun and then..."

_Come on Hiccup, a bleeding nose could be explained with exhaustion and you bit your lip as you hit the table. Perfectly believable_, he thought, trying to justify another lie.

His father looked at him expectantly, with honest worry and care,_ No, no more lies, but no truth as well. Not yet. _He almost scoffed internally at such a weak justification.

_"_Dad, there are things I can't explain to you. I... I just can't...," he mumbled the last word waited for a reaction. He still felt the reassurance to meet his father's expectations and a strong guilt for hiding the truth. Some things did not change. The situation made him clench his fists. If only there was a way to make things easier. Sadly, he knew the reality he lived in too well. There would be no magical intervention that could change everybody's heart.

He heard his father take a heavy breath, "All right," he said.

Hiccup's widened eyes immediately rushed to the aged face, wrinkled from the ocean's salty wind, experience and concern. Hesitantly, Stoick put his hand on the surprised boy's shoulder, "I trust ya, Hiccup. If that's what yer judgment is tellin' ya t' do, so be it."

He shook the teen's frame gently to accent his point and smiled, "Now!" He clasped his hands together and stood up, "I'm goin' out. I'll b' back in th' evenin'. Rest. Eat plenty of food. And drink...yes," he thought deeper if he forgot anything, "No tryin' t' walk on yer own. Got it?" He said sternly, pointing a finger at his son.

"Dad...,"

"Got it?"

"I'm an adult already, remember? Killing the Red Death and stuff?" Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Got it?" Stoick repeated with a scorching stare.

"...fine," the grounded village hero relented, though he smirked at this display of enforced affection.

"Good. Anythin' else ya need before I'll go?" The Viking leader questioned.

Hiccup considered to let his manly pride win and not ask for anything. Then he remembered that he needed to heal as soon as possible and start searching for Toothless.

"Some water and food would be excellent. Also, I assumed from your reaction that you've chewed out and banned my friends from these household premises. Can you tell them that it's all right to visit me?" Hiccup requested with an all-knowing smugness.

Stoick handed him a mug and more than adequate portion of steaming lamb rack on pickled cabbage, "Sharp as ever. I'll...unban them from visiting you," he said in an even voice, where only the most empathic of minds could detect playfulness in, "However, if Miss Hofferson should decide to come, tell her to leave her shoes outside th' door so I can wait 'till yer …finished."

A spray of suddenly expelled water reached the wall across the bed.

* * *

The empty bowl and a cup lay on the small table by the resting place. Hiccup had devoured all the edible matter he had been provided, his stomach protesting to no avail. He needed all the energy he could get. He had some time for himself before somebody arrived. All for he better.

He carefully sat and tried to cross his legs as he did before. The radiating agony from his partially destroyed leg stopped him. The area was still too sensitive, and even the slightest pressure caused immense pain. He sucked a breath and steadied himself.

It did not matter. Toothless had taught him the only thing that mattered was to be comfortable. He did so. He sat with a pillow supporting his back and put a blanket over himself as he did as a child. A cocoon and protection from the outside world. He closed his eyes in silent darkness and concentrated. His breathing became acutely loud and his heartbeat followed shortly after. Inhale. Three heartbeats. Exhale. He repeated and imagined a point in his mind. He found out it was easier for him to do this when he wanted the points to look like one of the Fury's small lightning orbs. Inhale. Three heartbeats. Slow exhale. The thump of his heart dominated every other sound. He saw himself looking closer at the orb, the little bolts swirling in it. As he neared the creation, it became smaller and he followed. He found himself falling behind it into an infinite depth.

Into himself.

Inhale. Three heartbeats.

And he was gone.

* * *

"Sonny, can ya help me with yer father? I can't lift him on my own...sonny?" The feminine voice called through the silent household," Sonny? Where ar' ya?"

The massive, iron-enforced door opened and the lady of the house stepped outside, breathing mist with out each breath of cold air ,"Snotlout! Come when I'm callin' ya!" She exclaimed, although her voice had a perpetual meekness to it that ruined the forceful effect.

She folded her long woollen scarf around her shoulders and with a huff, she toddled at the back of the house. At the side, however; she found what she looked for. Her son stood motionlessly in only a sleeveless shirt on himself looking ahead with absent eyes. Straight into the yellowish irises of the Monstrous Nightmare, its muzzle hovering a finger's length away from her son's face.

"Shoo! Begone beast!" She squeaked in the most frightening voice she could muster, shooing the dragon away as if she were chasing away an overgrown poultry. The red-scaled creature averted her gaze and its pupils slit into lines as it growled, nearing the human who disturbed its actions. Before anything more drastic happened, the Nightmare's horned head turned upwards, looking at something for a brief moment, wailed in fright, turned abruptly and started running away in its grotesque shuffle-dash.

The woman huffed and did not waste a moment to ponder more about the pesky dragon addition to the household. If only her husband had been awake, he would have known what to do. He was healing nicely, better than anyone predicted. Still, she felt lost without him by her side.

"Snotty, what ar' ya doin' out in the cold with nothin' on ya? Another endurance trainin'? I swear, one day yer gonna kill yerself with it!" She complained as her son blinked a few times and looked around, collecting his thoughts.

"Sorry mom, I went out to chop some wood, but... I was caught up in something... yeah," He turned and headed back to the house, a pile of sliced wood beneath his arm. Internally, he was anxious not to hear certain questions. He felt something sticky beneath his nose. He touched it and saw a smear of blood on his fingers. He quickly wiped it with his forearm. It was not the first time this had happened, and he prayed to Freyja that nobody would notice it.

"What was tha' devil doin' her' again? It might eat our sheep or burn our house down! Yer said ya'll make it go away!" The woman said accusingly as she walked after the teen who led the way with long, swingy steps.

"Mom, the dragon is not an "it" but a "she" and _her_ name is Firewyrm," he thought for a second about the most convincing argument, "And _she _is the newest addition to the Berkian defence force. She will prove herself useful in case we are attacked."

_Hah, good one!_ He thought with satisfaction that he managed to think about something so fast.

"Yer father will do somethin' about Stoick an' his foolish actions after he wakes up. Tha' the other beasts left was a blessin'. Even the Horrendous Haddocks' Night Fury was not seen for a few days. Before that it used to parade on th' streets an' go into th' woods. I heard Crankyich's son talkin' 'bout it this! There's only yer _Firewyrm_ left! You know what th' neighbours say? We're a disgrace to th' village! It's not how a Viking should act. Ya should kill tha' monstrosity while it's lettin' ya near. That's what ya should do!" She almost spat the last sentence with finality as they entered the house and she closed the door angrily behind with a loud crash.

Snotlout clenched his teeth and tried not to let his temper rule his mind.

_Do what Hiccup would. Think of a plan, then talk. They're not ready to know the truth. Take it easy. Be in control._

He did not speak and chose to ignore his parent's ramblings. It was getting worse day after day. It had all started after the Dragons' Nest invasion. It must have been his mother's way of dealing with the stress by complaining and talking all the time rather than thinking about the issues at hand. She was used to routine and doing the same for years. This new environment must be disturbing for her and, with her below-average mental capacity ,she was lost. Not to mention her constant desire to impress others. She had been snatched away from her original tribe, one that had never known wealth or good treatment. She was trying to lead a life of a highly ranked village leader's relative, fulfilling a fantasy she had dreamed since childhood. It was like a dream to her.

And she did not want to do anything that caused her to lose her status.

_Wait, what?_ Snotlout's eyes widened at his own strange train of thoughts. This was not how he he usually reasoned. Yet, his mind did not stop. And… why was he still thinking about it?

His mother was still speaking, but he did not listen. He should not think like this. He _did not_ think in this way. His mind felt clearer, sharper.

"What was up with ya lookin' into th' dragon's eyes?"

_Oh, so she saw,_ he thought, thinking of how to answer the stressed woman.

"It's my way of showing my dominance. Like, with wolves you can make them submit by looking at them without showing fear. I'm just training her," Snotlout said with nonchalance, brushing dirt off his hands.

_Or more likely, Firewyrm trains me_, he thought to himself, the notion assured by what his cousin had confessed. He already decided he would visit Hiccup after doing his chores. No, visiting his father was a priority.

In addition, his uncle had been furious yesterday and had the wrong idea about what happened. Stoick had come in to see that Hiccup mysteriously had his head on the table and was bleeding from his nose and mouth.

It had to be exhaustion, nothing else. Snotlout felt guilty for wanting to party knowing that his scrawny relative had just woken up from a clash with death. An utterly exhilarating clash with the Red Death, although still he did not count that as a pleasant experience. Hiccup would have to live now as a war invalid. It had been his first fight on the back of the Night Fury's back, his biggest chance to shine and this is how it ended.

It was definitely not how Snotlout had imagined it would end. He let the stream of his thoughts flow as he returned to his chores.

"Mom, I'm going to meet with the family representatives now," he spoke into the depths of the house after swiping up the interior of the room (He wanted it to be presentable if anyone decided to visit).

"May Odin watch over ya. Remember to represent us with pride. Not like those... Haddocks," she said venomously.

Something resonated in Snotlout's brain.

"Mom, why do you hate them so much?" He asked, the reasons to know more unknown to him.

"Because yer father should b' th' rightful leader. He was only born two years later. Your grandfather had intended fo' it, but then he died without ever putting his words on velum. It was your father's destiny to rule! An' it shows in Stoick's progeny. Look at his pathetic excuse of a son! Such a disgusting runt! So small, skinny, unworthy! It's a shame he didn't die along with his dragon.

"Stoick is diggin' us all an early grave with his plan t' protect th' dragons an' treat them as some pets," she shoot her son a condescending glare. She barely registered his son's unusual stillness in posture and eyes shining, even though it was something she never saw with her usually very obedient child.

"The Haddocks have proved themselves more than able to rule us in this time of change," Snotlout stated soberly," Why all this hate?" He asked, his eyes almost completely covered with the shadow from his father's golden helmet now sitting on his head.

His mother brought his hand to his beard- stubbled check. Instead of the usual warmness, he felt coldness numbing his skin.

"Ya'll understand it when ya'll grow up," she said sweetly to the her son. Even though he was technically a grown man by Viking standards.

Snotlout left to fulfil his duties in his father's name, his mother's parting words echoing in his head. He was not sure himself, although he felt he understood more than ever. And he did not like what he had learned so far. Not one single bit. Adults used to be paragons of perfection, people with immeasurably larger experience and wisdom. He was an idiot, somebody strong, but inferior as his father had told him many times. His parents had been perfect in his eyes. It was acceptable, easy to follow what they wanted. Hate the Haddocks, hate dragons, fill his life with living up to other people's ideas and values.

He was no longer a child. He had now become an adult, become his goal.

A yellowish eye with a black, elliptical pupil flashed before his eyes from his memory, and a smile crept onto his face.

No, _his _journey was only beginning.

* * *

The dusty-red _Hitesthi Eska _aptlynamed by the fellow human Firewyrm -because apparently she could set herself on fire- was moving like an earth worm at the end of her wormy dash into the nearest woods. The withering grass and plants, hardened by the beginning of the winter,crunched beneath her paws and claws as she left deep imprints in the dirt.

Seeing an especially tall pine, she climbed on it, the hooked talons digging into the soft lignin. When she was almost at the top, her let her body twist around the looming tree like a spontaneously combusting snake. She did not dare move after that as her slit eyes scanned the ground below her, trying to catch any movement in the forest.

When nothing disturbed the quietness caused by the panicked Nightmare rushing through the area, she growled and huffed through nostrils, emulating her displeasure. The dangerous old-smelling thing had disturbed her again. He had told her to stop before, but being near the tepid-blooded Nice Smell was too tempting for her to miss.

She tried to resist, just like the Dangerous One wanted, buy she failed every time.

The feeling she got whilst looking into the Nice Smell's eyes was whole-consuming. She had never experienced it before and wanted to repeat it as many times as possible. It stirred something in her she never knew she possessed. She wanted more, and she wanted it now. Now assured that she had outsmarted the Dangerous One, she started climbing down slowly. It was always easier to go up than down. Her species were naturally gifted with the ability to attach themselves to almost any surface, thanks to the curved claws and a flat underside.

"May I say that I'm disappointed?" the rhythmical and calm chirp caused the Nightmare to look up and almost bump her nuzzle into the Nadder's horn.

He hung upside down from one of the larger branches, his leg's talons circled around it, above the retreating dragoness.

She roared in fright and instinctively lit herself on fire. All her limbs let go of the bark. Before she realised what she had done, her body was overtaken by the gravity, and she plummeted around five body lengths into the ground.

After a short moment and a few broken branches along the way, a loud crashing sound announced that she had met her destination. The flames on her body dissipated, getting smaller until they completely disappeared.

Coming to her senses, the Nightmare rolled from her now sore back to all fours. Before her lowered muzzle a white scaled leg thudded on the ground. The leg was clawed with five brown scimitars. She noticed how the talon at the backside of the paw was hooked and how its edge glistened in the dimmed, winter's sun.

She did not move as the Dangerous One circled her slowly, keeping her head low and not making eye contact, trying to appear as submissive as she could.

"No permanent damage. Good," the Nadder stated. After the frightened dragoness lifted her elongated snout to see what was occurring, she felt a blinding pain on her side and zipped through the air. Before she audibly expressed her pain, her backside collided violently with a tree that squeaked in protest. Breath vacated her lungs and she recoiled from the wood towards the ground.

Before she hit the ground, another strike impaled her underbelly and the situation repeated itself. This time however, the tree was too thin to withstand the force and shattered in the middle of its length. Deprived of resistance, the Nightmare did not attempt to lift herself off the ground. It was covered with withered leaves that still held their fall colours.

The foliages swirled in the air currents as she was struck for the third time, this time lighter, just enough to make her roll her on her back so she could meet her attacker. The blows were not ordinary; there was something mixed in them, something that paralyzed her muscles and penetrated deep into her body. She had used to crash human's dwellings and rocks as if they were her prey's vertebra, her thick, fireproof hide impervious to almost everything.

Something grabbed her throat below her muzzle and, despite her belief that she just lost all her will to fight, she thrashed uselessly as life was seeped out from her.

"You decided to decline my concerned and cordially proffered warning. I am afraid that this shall be your punishment," the Nadder stated emotionlessly.

His leg did not even bulge against the convulsions that weakened with every passing moment, "What I'm doing to you is called 'negative reinforcement'. I bound the negative stimuli, namely pain, with a message I want you to obey. Here is the message," his eyes narrowed and his tone became ice-laced, "Do not approach the human without my approval," he growled threateningly, eyes expressionless," Now, the negative reinforcement," he announced and with the same passionless demeanour as before, he released the Nightmare throat and let her take a breath.

The air did not linger long in the dragoness' lungs as the Nadder dropped her leg at the shoulder that, with sickening, loud crunch dislocated.

An ear-splitting roar echoed through the island.

The Master waited until the punished member of his _Athet_ got past her useless tantrum and was coherent enough to understand what he would next discuss.

He had to wait much longer for her to stop having misty eyes and have enough awareness to swallow the saliva had been dripping from her opened jaws for some time. When she was reduced to soft wails and a massive chest heaving powerfully, the Nadder communicated further.

"You are weak and unable to control your urges. Despite my warning, you not only continued contacting the human with your pathetic attempts at affection, but also endeavoured to Mend with the human without proper knowledge of the procedure," the Nadder's tone slowed and took on a dangerous edge .

"You can understand me, even though you never have spoken before in my presence. Your ability to manipulate Tagma is elementary, more instinctual than driven by coherence and understanding. You are truly a beast lost to its desires without a shred of intelligence. An empty husk without light of rationality. And husks should best be removed," he chirped, accenting every tone sharply and turned away to leave the fallen Nightmare to its misery.

He stopped as he felt something pressed against his scaled leg. He did not need to look down to know that it was the dragoness, desperately keeping his limb between her teeth. Her white, pointy fangs scrapped against the Nadder's snowy-white natural armouring with full force, although she was not able to penetrate it.

Seemingly effortlessly the Nadder took several steps forward, dragging the whole Nightmare body's behind him. The dents in the soil left behind the dragoness showed that she tried to resist. Muffled, throaty whimpers emanated from her limp frame. Her motionless right wing with its forcefully displaced shoulder slid alongside her body, evoking excruciating pain with each movement. Yet, the creature did not free herself from the torture.

The Nadder stopped after the fifth step.

"Why will you not make it easy for yourself and relinquish your hope?" He asked and did not receive an answer.

Unbeknownst to the Nightmare, an amused smirk formed on his muzzle, "Why do you cling to me? Is it formless persistence? Release of fruitless anger? What are your reasons, whelp?"

The jaws released his the Nightmare's limb, and one of the most feared dragons in Viking society heaved from torturous exertion.

The dragoness worked to regain her senses while the Nadder calculated mentally.

He did not particularly enjoy inflicting physical punishment as a form of castigation, but the _Eska _could not be trained by reason and talk.

Forcing her mind to accept his terms using Tagma would have been a short-term solution. Pain had to be administered, as it was the procedure the Nightmare was familiar with, and most accepting. It had to be done.

As much as the Nadder secretly hoped for the blazing creature to accept his terms, he would have to kill her in case if she did not obey him.

These humans were simply such an important part of Seven's plans. They could not be harmed. If the Nightmare let her instincts envelop her almost nonexistent sentience, she would continue to involuntarily seek contact with the human and Merge with him without fully understanding what she was doing.

Still, if continued unsupervised and without preliminary training, the only thing the human would permanently gain from the experience would be destruction of brain tissue, internal bleeding and, ultimately, death.

The Nadder relaxed the leg he kept in front of the other, ready to strike the Nightmare's neck if necessary. He could do it so efficiently, she would not even know she was dying. He waited for the tones she would sing back to him. She had resisted his former pulse, the one every other dragon on the island had reacted to by fleeing away.

Her resistance had meant she had a basic knowledge of Tagma, which also usually meant that the dragon using it was capable of speech. Speech meant intelligence and,if the Nightmare was unable to articulate herself, all hope was lost for her. She would never be able to control her desire to be with the human and damage him by doing so.

Death was an only option he could offer for her. Many had tried a different solution. None succeeded.

He waited.

The maw that used to evoke fear in Vikings' heats opened and a sound came out from it. A long groan without any speech ability in it.

The Nadder lowered centre of his damage and relaxed his front leg, flexing the muscles of his hind limb.

"Whhaaaaaaantttt," the dragoness toned wheezily. The Nadder's leg spun doing a semi circle in the air as he turned to the fallen Nightmare.

He leaned heavily and turned his head, his eye looking with immense intensiveness at the struggling creature," Waaaaantt…," she repeated the first word she had modulated in the older dragon's presence, and her tone going up suggested she wanted to add another phoneme.

"Human," he supplied the next word, one the dragoness had probably never heard before. She had passed the test already, now he only needed to help with recognition of the goal.

Just the way he did with Toothless.

"Humaaaaan," she toned without expertise and repeated the word a few times, tasting how it sounded and how it identified the being she wanted to be around.

"What do you want?" the Nadder asked.

The Nightmare growled and then spat, attempting to tone words again, "Waaant humannn...wannt huuuuman."

The Master returned his head to its upright position, and, looking at the sprawled beast, he decided what to do.

He pressed the hard sole of his leg to the side of the disjointed shoulder and ignored the whimper of pain and fear.

"…Another slave to the humans has been born. Just like _Enkar_, just like you," his eyes narrowed and he made one forceful and accurate shove with his leg.

The forest again resounded with pained roars, dominating the part that the Nadder toned, however. The Nightmare, despite her blinding pain, heard what he said just after.

"…Just like me."

* * *

No visitors came to Hiccup's house until the end of that day. The boy was wakened from his meditation by his father who had come back after a long and mentally tiring meeting with families who had lost their members to the war.

Most of the warriors were skilled in something else beside killing dragons and, if the village was missing one of the farmers or millers, they had to decide on who would take up an apprenticeship to fill the vacant position. It was a long and grinding process with a lot of arguing and shouting, as some jobs were more desirable than others.

Stoick answered with a simple "Ya need t' hav' some undisturbed time t' recover."

Hiccup understood the message perfectly. His father was not over the fact that his son had gotten permanently hurt. They ate dinner together, the boy in his bed and his father sitting in the chair by the bed's frame.

Deciding not to pressure the topic of his friends not being able to visit him, Hiccup turned away from the light of the fire and covered himself fully with the blankets. He slept best when it was fully dark. It was like lying under an ebony wing.

Fire cracked, his father scribbled on velum with the feather occasionally gently clinging the clay inkpot. Hiccup drifted to sleep.

* * *

A white wall with a gentle light above greeted him. The page rustled as it was turned. Hiccup sat upright immediately, looking straight ahead. This time as well, the golden-haired beauty closed the tome, put it on her lap and folded her palms on it.

"Hi," Hiccup said in a tired tone. Despite feeling relaxed by the dream, he felt the tension of the day.

"_Heill_," the woman greeted before her face expressed concern," What is troubling you tonight?" She asked in a voice matching her furrowed expression. Only her eyes remained as emotionless as before, two shards of deep azure.

"My best friend has disappeared, I have a possibly insane Nadder running around and doing... things. I've heard about people getting back to health surprisingly quick and I am sure he is behind it. My friends are confused and I have no knowledge on how to support them. There are so many questions and nobody to answer them!" Hiccup exclaimed and, to his surprise, his voice echoed in the room, "Nice acoustics," he commented absent-mindedly, "Also, there is Astrid..."

The woman tilted her head slightly, a wisp of hair sliding from her shoulder as she appeared to listen intently to every complaint, exaggeration and frustration the youth had to offer. It took him a while to get everything out of his mind. He took a deeper breath as he ended his rant; he remembered that he did not have a name for _that_ part of his imagination. He wondered briefly what chunk of his psyche the beautiful manifestation represented.

Looking at the woman, he was sure it had to do with some dreams he could not remember, although his body must have better memory as his pants felt much tighter on such mornings.

"What's your name?" he asked, before realising that he just asked himself how he wanted to be named.

She again revealed that strange smile, a mixture between amusement, one that patronised those she observed.

"Inanna," she answered simply.

"Heh, strange name," Hiccup said to... himself.

"But you may call me Freyja," she said with that indescribable smile. At the mention of the name of the goddess of love, Hiccup's eyes slipped from her face downwards. He quickly rectified himself by looking at the floor, possibilities of where it was, going storming his mind.

Freyja was the goddess of love, but she also happened to represent certain aspects of death and war as part of her goddess duties. At the moment, those additions were lost to the boy. As if the woman read his mind, he heard a gentle rustling of the silky sheets he was covered with and saw her sitting close to him. He gulped audibly as his heartbeat filled his ears and his cheeks radiated with pulsating heat.

"May I ask you something, Hiccup?" She said in a husky tone.

It took ten seconds for the teenager's brain to catch up and conclude that he was expected to give an answer.

"Y-yes," he attempted the manliest squeal of his personal history and failed.

"What do you think about war?" She asked.

Hiccup's goofy smile widened, his eyes half open.

Ten seconds later he blinked.

"What?" He asked, feeling completely lost.

"What do you think about war?" Inanna inquired once more, her face an unmoving mask of indifference.

Hiccup slapped his face with his hand, "Really? I mean..._really_?" He groaned to himself and combed his hair in frustration of where his brain decided to lead him. He was determined not to make this fantasy go into some sort of philosophical dispute. He _had_ to salvage the situation!

"You sure you don't want to make out before asking me such questions first?" He asked, full of hope, heat and hormones.

This time the peculiar smirk did not appear, and Hiccup could not bring himself argue with the current lady's current expression. Sobered and disappointed at the same time, he sighed and dropped on the bed not to look at the source of his increasing desire.

"I hate it," he said after a moment to collect himself.

"Did you always hate it?" Freyja asked calmly. Her voice was so soothing to the teen that he felt that it worked as well as his meditation. He was already getting relaxed.

"No," he answered, filling his lungs to their full capacity, "Or... for most of my life I thought that I didn't."

"Therefore, you changed your perception of yourself," Inanna stated.

"Because I experienced change."

"Why did you experience it?"

"Because I was forced to escape my boundaries."

"Attachment, desires, culture, beliefs...," she let the thoughts go uncompleted, and Hiccup continued playing this weird version of tag. Everything made sense to him as he opened his mind and let it drift.

"They all shaped my truth, my perception of reality," he said, and he had the vague memory that he had heard about something like this before.

"Then there is not just one truth."

"I used to think that there was only one."

"Your friend showed you a different truth."

"He widened my understanding and my knowledge of truth expanded."

"Then, can you form yourself depending on what you experience?"

Hiccup thought a moment about the question, loosening up even further and losing the sensation of his body.

"No. It all depends on the perceiver," he remembered when he heard it. In one of the books he had read a few times when he was younger about philosophy, "Truth depends more on the percipient than physical reality."

"Then you learned a truth about yourself."

"I did... but only a small part of it. I did not know that, but through the experience and my understanding, now I am aware that there is more to me and the surrounding world than I ever imagined."

"Knowledge extends beyond experience."

"Thus, what comes not from direct experience must be questioned."

"Did you question yourself, Hiccup?"

"Many times."

"Did you find the truth you were looking for about yourself?"

"No, but I know now how to look into myself."

"How?" She asked, her voice brimming with such passion that it startled his trance, only for a moment, though.

"I need others to show me myself. I need to see my reflection in their eyes."

At that remark his barely opened eyes saw a pair of blue sapphire eyes piercing him. A waterfall of hair almost as light as air caressed the side of his cheek, as did a hand by the side of his head as Freyja's face almost touched his own. So close that, if he slightly lifted his head, he would kiss her.

"Do you want to know more about yourself?" She asked directly in almost a whisper, her breath sliding over his lips. It smelled of something metallic Hiccup could not identify. He observed his own eyes reflecting in hers, unable to break the contact. At this point, it did not matter to him.

"I would love to," he answered, losing all sense of himself and brought his head upwards. All he remembered later was the softness against his lips and that it tasted like blood.

* * *

He kicked his target in hopeless anger. The booted leg ricocheted from the hard surface, and he swung his limb repeatedly.

His breath deepened quickly, as his body did not handle physical challenges well. He had barely done anything and was already running out of breath.

Hiccup coughed and kicked the dead Nadder at the belly for the last time. The dulled yellow eye kept gazing endlessly at the cerulean sky, dried blood matching its red-scaled hide.

The young boy, barely seven years old, was furious. It was his target, he was the one who was supposed to kill it and it died, its throat sliced open by his father's axe as he found him wandering the streets with a small dagger in his hands during the raid.

He found the carcass in the morning exactly where he remember it fell. How dare this dragon not die by his hand? It was his destiny to become a dragon slayer! Hiccup wheezed hard as he regarded the motionless, bloodied corpse with disgust. He felt his back and chest heating up painfully to the point that they felt as if they burned - as always when he did anything strenuous. He ignored the pain; he was accustomed to it.

He _had_ to kill a dragon.

His eyes were hard as steel, and his face had an appearance of resolution, unthinkable for a child his age, as he made his decision.

This had been the first attempt since he had been allowed to move after several months of being bed-ridden and house-bound. He needed to kill a dragon and do it fast. This pain in him much greater than his burns, and he had to get rid of it.

Death would fix everything. It fixed most things in Berk. Fixed the pain of living.

_Solitude._

The young Hiccup sat at his desk in an always dimmed room, a candle as its only light source. It was daytime; however, he had started to appreciate darkness. He found it much more soothing than the light and the noise it brought.

The young boy worked hard on the drawing, concentrating hard to do it with his left hand, as he no longer could use his right one. He could still feel the bandages tightly binding his shoulder.

"Being by myself felt better than going outside", the young Hiccup said aloud, "People didn't want to see me,and I didn't want to see them. I actually was never happy with it, but I learned to feel satisfaction from my situation." The only other noise was the sound of the pencils delicately scrapping the parchment.

The house was quiet, empty except for this one occupant, "I felt safe here. I did not want to see other people."

_So you would not see how you reflected in them?_

"Yeah, it was great," the young Hiccup agreed, taking another colour of his pencil, "Whenever I was outside, I felt their accusing stares. Judging me. The reflection I saw was me being responsible for my mother's death," he spoke naturally and coughed a few times, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

When he looked at the green cloth, there were few droplets of blood on it. He ignored it and went back to drawing, "Some of them were sympathetic. Despite the rumours, why would they condemn a badly burned child of the Chieftain? Still, I did not want their sympathy," He asked nonchalantly, his head leaning a tad closer to the vellum.

_You felt guilty._

The boy wiped a bit of yellow powder from the drawing space and proceeded to draw a curve again.

"I didn't want them to comfort me. They were not my mother. They wanted me to move on and try to enjoy life. To forgive myself. They understood nothing."

_Man survives by forgetting_

He smiled, satisfied with his finished piece. He slid slowly from the stool with a rectangular piece of vellum in his hand. He walked to the wall, numerous parchments rustling beneath his naked feet, "But I don't want to forget. I had already discarded my most precious and important memories," he said softly as he hung his newest piece on the already prepared nail.

He then lifted the stool with difficulty and placed it gently in front of the wall and took a seat, a content sigh escaping his lips. It was the happiest moment of his day. Below him, uncountable drawings lay, all with the same picture on them: a childish representation of a mouthless, disproportionally- drawn woman with green dots representing her eyes. The images all seemed to look at the boy whenever he was in the room, following him, observing.

A wide smile crept on the boy's face, soon twisting into a large grin.

He did not need anyone else. He had all he needed here, in his room. He had all his audience, everything he needed to remind him of what he had forgotten, of who he was.

_You wanted to be punished._

The boy laughed, and a pure sound of happiness felt the empty household. The multiple green eyes remained passive and unmoving, yet all of them bored into the youth's retinas; the powdered colourful substance they were made from seemed to glow in the candlelight.

Hiccup still laughed with pure mirth. He stopped when another coughing fit caught him. As before, more droplets of blood adorned his sleeve. He wiped his mouth clean, yet some bloody saliva still stuck on his chin.

"It's what my father wants. He hates me for forgetting. He hates me for being alive. It's what _he _wants, not me!" He shouted gleefully, "I'm doing what he wants! I'm a good son!"

He sat there for hours before he noticed that the crack where his window shutters hung were empty of the light usually seeping through them. It was time to clean his room. He did not want his father to ask unnecessary questions. He would not understand.

Nobody would understand.

_You wanted to please your father._

The small frame of the naked boy semi-sat in bed, his narrow chest bound in bandages as he slurped the soup on his lap, carefully moving a wooden spoon with trembling hand.

The imposing frame of his father cast a shadow over him that covered his whole body.

"He never said anything," the child said between swings of the spoon, "He never looked at me. But I saw it in his eyes."

The boy rested the eating utensil in the empty bowl.

A massive hand reached for the dish, and the shadow slid down Hiccup's body. Soon the door opened and closed.

"He did everything to avoid me," the boy-Hiccup said as he took a loose green tunic and fought to put it over his head with his one usable hand, "I'm not something he wants. He feeds and cleans me because he has to. I'm just an unnecessary weight," his voice was muffled for a moment as he pulled the cloth down over his face, "But I still wanted him to love me."

He stood again at the side of the slain, reddish Nadder. Its eyes were motionless as the young boy kicked its unfeeling stomach in fury.

The dragon had denied him love by not dying by his hand.

Stupid.

_Kick._

Ugly.

_Kick._

Disgusting.

_Kick._

Monster.

The boy was now in his house standing in front of his father. The man was so tall that, even though Hiccup craned his neck, he could not see his face. There were only two green glowing dots as if they were made of colourful chalk looking down at him.

"I will kill a dragon, don't worry! I will make you happy!" Hiccup shouted happily.

However, he was already alone, and the door was shutting behind him with a small creak, "No! Don't leave!" He yelled with desperation, although the door now closed with a booming bang.

The tears glistened in the boy's eyes as he ran to the portal, never reaching it, only reliving the moment as the door closed before him again and again in his mind, separating him from the most important person in his life, "Daddy, don't leave me! Don't... leave... look at me...," he creaked as the tears and mucous from his nose dribbled over his face.

The door closed once more, this time for good.

"Why won't you love me?" He screamed in absolute desperation and pain to the sealed door.

_He loved you. You preferred creating your world where you would be punished for the death of your mother._

"No! He doesn't love me!" The young Hiccup yelled frantically, tears still falling over his check as fury overtook him, "He doesn't want me! He doesn't care! And it's my fault! He never yells or hits me! He never says anything!"

The child screamed uncontrollably, putting hands to his face and squeezing them hard, nails driving into the skin. Then they relaxed,and the palms dropped to Hiccup's sides revealing two exhausted, dimmed eyes.

"I _will_ make you love me," he croaked quietly, detached from reality. He shuffled to the door as the smoke started seeping through the door cracks,along with the roar of fire and clanging of metal and battle raising in volume as Hiccup approached the door again.

With difficulty, he opened the door to the outside. He shielded his face with his hand from the gust of heat mixed with cinders and embers that attacked his face. The orange glow of reflected flames filled his vision and shone brighter, as if the fire was moving closer to him. The boy looked up as the source of the heat came closer.

"Mommy?" The boy asked softly.

The light from the fire illuminated his whole face, the source of it now right next to him.

"…Why are you burning?"

A page was turned.

* * *

Hiccup awoke with a piercing scream as he felt a well-known feeling on his skin. One did not forget the sensation of burning alive easily. He fought to tear the flaming clothes off himself. He almost immediately felt a weight on his chest, and he instinctively started fighting against whatever was pinning him down.

He could not see, and the roar of fire still hummed loudly, rendering him deaf to anything else.

After a moment of pointless struggle, he noticed that he did not see because it was dark in the room and his eyes were misted with tears.

He was not burning again; he was back in his room.

Something purred comfortingly on his chest, causing the boy to gasp. Without a thought he lunged forward, his skin still burning with the memory whilst the sensation subsided slowly.

He closed his eyes as he sobbed onto what he felt: a deeply scaled surface.

"I-I had a nightmare bud... I woke up an-and you were not there, but mi-missing," he hugged the hard, scaled surface tighter to his convulsing chest. He remained in that position until he calmed down. His hand slid over the muzzle only to find a horn jutting out from the skin.

He pushed himself away from the embrace and opened his eyes.

A horned head lifted from his chest and, instead of the toxic-green eye of Toothless, he saw a glowing eye the colour of a flame's tongue. The Nadder lifted his head and locked his gaze with Hiccup's.

Before he was able to scream, the youth felt his consciousness leave him.

* * *

Hiccup awoke with the first rooster's cry.

It was morning. He was not burning, his skin did not feel as if it was on fire. His eyes worked with their usual efficiency, not covered with a film of tears. He did not see a ghastly image of his mother. There was nobody next to him.

Everything was back to normal.

Except it did not.

He sat and looked around the room. The fire shone brightly as his father added wood like always, before leaving for his duties.

He had left a cauldron full of still steaming water with a cloth for Hiccup to wash himself by the bed. A bowl with a few boiled eggs and a small pot of salt rested on the stool next to the bed.

Hiccup dropped down, sinking into the pillow. He felt mentally spent, even though his body felt energetic to start another day of his life.

The rooster called for the second time.

After several minutes of silence, the boy stirred and sat at the edge of the bed, his inner fight to wallow in despair lost.

He took the first egg and broke its shell on the plate's edge. He had had his share of the inexplicable and survived enough in his life to have enough strength not to lose the sight of his plan.

Find Toothless and learn more about dragons.

_…If Toothless did not simply leave with the others,_ a traitorous part of his mind whispered to him. He did his best to ignore that. It was harder to disregard the shaking hand he used to feed himself. His whole body was trembling goosebumps all over his healthy skin.

Instead of fighting the emotions any longer, he let them out once more. His hand quivered less as tears fell from his face.

* * *

His meditation was cut short as somebody knocked on the door. Quite forcefully.

Hiccup exhaled and opened his eyes in the darkness. He took the blankets off his body and was about to walk to the door when he realised that in his condition, he was not expected to be seen by anyone coming through that door.

"It's open!" he shouted as a joke. It was humorous among Vikings that some traders spoke about some nations where people actually locked their doors at night.

"Finally!" somebody shouted as the door opened and Snotlout marched inside, brushing white fluff from his elaborately decorated cape with a retentive pattern broiled in gold thread around the neck and shoulders and the edges finished in white wolf fur.

Beneath, Snotlout wore a heavy brown leather jacket and matching trousers fastened with a broad belt, sporting a gold medallion with an engraved Nightmare curled on it.

Simply put, Snotlout looked posh.

"Looking good there, cous', who's the date?" Hiccup joked.

"I wish it would've been a girl. I just had to sit through the most boring dispute between two families all because of a tree!" Snotlout said, frustrated, and took an egg from the bowl on the main table without asking.

"Make yourself at home," Hiccup whispered sarcastically to himself.

"So imagine this," Snotlout said with a vivid hand gesture, "there is a border between these two houses, right?" He asked not waiting for any sign for confirmation from his relative, "The border was put on the map 156 years ago and did not change since, but! " Raised finger, "At the exact point between their land a tree starts to grow, yes?" Widened eyes, "There was no problem for decades with it as long as it was alive, but it burned during the last dragon raid and with some bad blood between the families... because one of the sons was rejected by the daughter of the other," nonchalant shrug, "…Now they want to start a blood path between their clans because they argue who would be the one to chop the tree down!"

Hiccup absorbed this riveting news as he scratched side of his neck.

"So why won't somebody not related to any of those families do this?" He asked.

Snotlout leaned against the edge of the dining table, crossing his arms across his chest.

"No can do. The rejected son's family swore they would treat anyone touching their property as a sign of hostility against their clan. Nobody wants to risk their family's reputation for a stupid dead piece of wood," Snotlout reported, although his face held a badly concealed smirk. Hiccup did not miss that.

"All right. I take it you thought of the solution already," the burn-scarred youth said with a smile on his own.

Snotlout sprung to attention immediately, "Hear that! Both of their fields are full of grass...it will die soon, but it still can be used as feeding grounds for the sheep. They would have to sacrifice_ some_ part of their land for the sheep," he chuckled, "We can demand for them to give a small part of their land... like the part with a dead tree for our livestock to feed let's say, for one day. And, as the dead tree can be a hazard to our precious animals, it would have to be removed! I already talked to Grimlock. He would be more than happy to take one sheep on a leash for a walk with an axe and remove this cursed plant," he finished with a smug grin.

Hiccup thought for a moment as he rubbed his neck slowly, "This...could actually work. The plan is sound, but you need the Chieftain's approval."

"No. I need _your _approval," Snotlout pointed a finger at him, taking another egg from the bowl. Hiccup suspected that his father had prepared enough eggs to render him immobile after eating.

"Me? But I don't hold any leadership position," he stated.

"Hiccup, you're the leader's son and after all the Red Death thing, you've earned your title as a Viking. Your old man made it official few days ago. He's waitin' with announcing your Viking name until you'll start walking again. Anyway, you can now make some decisions as our future leader," Snotlout explained.

Hiccup swiped his hair. _Him,_the leader! It seemed so far away, so irrelevant compared to the mess that was happening with his world and his head. He exhaled tiredly.

"Right... with my taking this decision, both families would have the Haddocks to blame, and they would not dare to do anything against the ruling clan. That was quite clever, 'Lout. For you," Hiccup scoffed.

Snotlout merely raised an eyebrow, having a ready come back, "I would have hit you for that, but I remembered that you're so easily breakable. Even lost a leg before losing your virginity."

At that, Hiccup laughed as loudly as his weakened state allowed, Snotlout joining him. Barely two days of being awake, and he already heard jokes about his leg. He enjoyed that. Normality, even the Viking version of it, was a good thing.

"Has the first snow started to fall outside?" Hiccup asked after a solid guffaw.

"Yeah. Right on time," Snotlout answered.

"I don't want to miss it. Can you help me get outside?" The blanket-cocooned boy requested.

"Yeah..."

* * *

Two young men sat on the wide bench below the short roof,resting their backs on the aged wood of the furniture. They looked at the clouded sky as the snow dribbled slowly downward.

The evergreen trees distinguished themselves from the skeletons of the empty-leaved ones. It was merely another change of seasons in Berk. Another cycle.

Hiccup, having a deep, healthy blush on his check from the cold, observed the falling fluff with enjoyment. His companion, on the other hand, was pale and appeared disinterested in this event, traditionally viewed as an occasion to celebrate by Berkians.

"Now, then," Hiccup said, turning to his cousin, "tell me what weird things have happened with your dragon."

* * *

Hiccup was again in his bed, absorbing what new information he could work with. Snotlout was apparently getting smarter. This is what he suspected at least. It all had happened because his dragoness had stared at him, putting him into some sort of hypnosis.

Hiccup related strongly to the hypnosis part, although he did not remember it to cause him severe headaches, bleeding from the nose, eyes and ears, momentarily loss of speech or sight and a raising sense of panic.

He could tell that Snotlout, with all his recklessness, was dismissing the negative aspects of whatever Firewyrm was doing to him.

Hiccup told Snotlout that humans were not supposed to bleed from their eyes.

To which he got the answer that his whole body was still working, so it was all right.

But it was _no_t all right. Both of them knew it, that almost nothing was all right.

They kept the unspoken law between men that, if something was obvious and there was nothing any of them could have done to change it, then there was no reason to complain about it.

Snotlout also revealed that he had a magical sword that glowed and could cut anything.

When Hiccup asked for him to show it, he heard the excuse that Snotlout was waiting for the right moment to show it off.

So, there was part of him still afraid, there.

If it were up to Hiccup, he would have been terrified to , curious and probably ready to do something stupid, but terrified, nevertheless.

Hiccup also told Snotlout how he had been pacified by the Nadder. His first hypothesis was that the dragon did it to prevent them from sharing the information related to the more secretive nature of dragons.

It was proven false as they talked, and nothing assaulted them except for the low temperature.

They were hopeless. All of them.

This was the truth and, again, they did not talk about it. There was no point.

They found something powerful and exciting, and it was much bigger than any of them.

The Nadder could do anything he wanted to them. Hiccup suspected that if the beast... or whatever it being he was… had wanted it, he could have killed the whole village easily.

The hunters would become the hunted.

Hiccup wished he could understand something- anything- in this jigsaw. He could merely see a shadow's shred of the real picture, and he had no comprehension to understand it.

He felt completely lost and, as he was currently confined to his bed for the most part, his situation was hopeless.

Especially without Toothless. He swung the covers fully around himself and repeated his thought process again.

He separated himself in all forms from the world, followed the routine, and started counting his heartbeats.

* * *

Astrid came for a visit. He should have expected that. No peace and quiet for the person who had clashed with death and awakened from a coma few nights prior.

_This_ disruption he did not mind, though.

Her get-together was brief and to the point as he had learned to expect from her, for similar reasons as Snotlout.

He learned that she had inexplicable bursts of strength, that she was feeling less tired and had a bigger appetite, something Hiccup shared. She also had vivid dreams, the subject of them she did not want to share. She quickly explained that those were not nightmares, and she did not find them disruptive.

Overall, she felt excellent; in fact, better than she ever had Astrid shared her opinion that being stalked by the Nadder was not an enjoyable experience; although again, it was nothing extremely troubling, as the creature did not show any signs of hostility.

They talked about it, they surely did, and, in the end they could not help each other beside elevating the fear.

Hiccup felt as helpless as when he had been the only one knowing the truth about the dragons and finding himself trapped between loyalty to himself and to his culture.

If only he had known more, if only he had used his time with Toothless more efficiently. If only he had not locked himself up in this bubble of happiness with the Fury. If he had only used this to actually get know more about his scaled guardian and his culture.

If only he had become not be so weak not to even be able walk...

He sighed; there was no point in thinking like that. He apparently liked repeating self-castigation for his feelings.

"Hiccup," Astrid said as she sat in front of the bed.

"Hmm?" He replied, deep in thought. He barely caught the unnatural glint in the girl's eyes.

He did not expect what happened next. She grabbed his loose green nightshirt that made his dried skin itch and pulled him towards herself in a lightning motion.

And, suddenly, his cracked lips met Astrid's in a kiss. He was surprised at first, although he relaxed and closed his eyes when he noticed Astrid did. He relaxed even more as a trance took over him almost as if he were meditating again.

Astrid's grip over him did not loosen though; she kept him as if afraid that he would disappear if she let him go.

They broke the intimate contact after too short a time, both gasping for air and heaving.

Astrid rested her forehead on the boy's shoulder.

"I hate when you make a face like that," she said sadly and, as always, honestly.

Her silky hair slid over the boy's crimson face and, before he knew it, he was losing himself again in a pair of blue eyes, her sweet and hot breath tickling his nose as they searched each other again with uncertainty, rocking back and forth gently.

Hiccup felt an urge to boldly ask for more, the need to feel that moist softness once more. He attacked and stopped almost at the destination, waiting for acceptance. Astrid recoiled at first, then consented, to connect with the boy once again. Hiccup closed his eyes.

"I-I better go," the sweet, hot breath washed over his face.

He could only raise his hand to stop the girl, a look of confusion and hurt on his face.

However, she was already by the door and he dreaded that she would leave without saying anything, that he had done something wrong.

She turned to him with a warm smile.

"See you very soon," she said and the door closed.

Hiccup lay down, looking at the ceiling.

"Wow," he summed it up.

He touched his lips with the taste still lingering at them. They tasted sweet and natural, welcoming.

Not anything like blood.

* * *

The rest of the day passed as Hiccup had planned .

There were no more visitors and he could literally concentrate on himself.

His father came back with his usual precise timing.

They indulged in a short conversation about everyday happenings as they both thought a normal family would do. They were still figuring out these routines.

Hiccup had already learned that Snotlout did not waste any time in implementing his decision and ending the tree-related dispute. Naturally, the families had been furious, although quickly silenced with the nephew of the Chieftain's rapid spurt of laws.

The very skilful diplomatic speech could have gone better had it not ended with Snotlout pointing at two men, representatives of the families with a maniac grin, and a shout of " Now shove it up your arses!".

Surprisingly, that finish worked better than any other argument the young leader-to-be would have presented.

Stoick wished his son a good night and left to his room upstairs.

Hiccup breathed out contentedly.

His father's booted feet had barely disappeared from sight when a ringing filled his ears.

It was definitely not a good start for the night. The pressure on his mind was different this time, gentle yet firm.

He did not have time to scream as his vision began to swim. He also could not pinpoint the origin of the attacker.

With the little time remaining him, he scanned the room, concentrating on the rafters. There was nothing there and no possibility that he could have missed something that big.

He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes and tried to resist. The force lingered for a moment and then it disappeared instantly. He had done it!

He opened his eyes with a satisfied smile. He had done something right again.

He saw the familiar ceiling.

White.

"Crap," he muttered.

"Hi Freyja," he nonchalantly greeted the imaginary goddess.

"_Heill_, Hiccup. How do you feel?" She asked. The susurrus of a page being turned accompanied the short pause.

"Like a hopeless, sick-a-bed, leg-missing plaything for a psychopathic dragon. But besides that, nothing to complain about," he deadpanned.

"Is it freedom that you lack?" Freyja asked

"Again, this?" He sighed in defeat and thought shortly, "No, I need understanding," he answered.

"This is why you are here," the mind creation answered.

Hiccup involuntarily curled knowing the meaning behind the words.

"No, I do not want to see more of myself. I don't want to relieve those memories again," he said, ignoring the movement by his side. When the pale hand started stroking his hair with affection, his mind could not remember, although his body wanted, "I don't want to know more about myself because...because I'm ugly."

"Hiccup...," Freyja started, although something in that tone bristled the boy. He shook the hand off and looked up.

"Stop it," he ordered, although he did not do anything as the hand touched his cheek. He involuntarily closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the touch. After a moment though, he recoiled and slapped the perfectly shaped limb away, "Don't touch me!" He yelled, his voice echoed, distorted.

Despite his behaviour, Freyja appeared as impassive as ever, not a single sign of pain or anger passed through her. Especially her eyes, despite the breathtaking colour one could lose himself in, started to made Hiccup furious.

"I_ said_ I don't want to look into myself," he spoke almost calmly, trying to mimic the indifferent behaviour of this perfect being, that, for some reason, irked him.

"Then, what do you want?" Freyja asked with the same, welcoming face of an avid listener promising wisdom and help.

"I want to know where Toothless is! I want for the dragons and Vikings to live in peace without relying on a culture poisoned by hatred and closed-mindedness. I want to have enough strength to walk by my own and just… _to be able to do something_! And, for now, I can't even go to the outhouse by myself!"

He yelled this, letting his frustration out. Normally he would not have done that, he would have kept it inside. However, this was a dream, so it was all right, "I want at least to once experience a life where I can live happily without war and pain. Without having to fight and almost die. I just want to be happy!"

" I could see it," Freyja smiled and closed her eyes, "Hiccup Haddock Horrendous III. You would live happily with your wife... have three kids that would love you back and they would not know any hardships of war and would not be poisoned with hatred... you would live an honest and hard-working life as the village leader… and then at the age of fifty you would die before your wife, the way you always wanted, chocking on a big piece of fish that you could not chew well enough with the few remaining teeth in your mouth. Probably a haddock fish at that. Poetic justice and all."

Hiccup snorted shortly at the proposed ending of his life.

"Would not it be a good life?" The gilt-haired woman asked.

"Yeah...," the boy agreed and curled his healthy leg to his chest.

"And you are wise enough to know that this is not life that you will lead," Freyja said gently.

"Why?" The boy asked.

"Because it is not the life you really want to have."

Hiccup snorted again, this time humourlessly "Of course. Why, I've always dreamed of almost dying, losing a leg and my best friend," he said with lethargic sarcasm.

"There is a purpose in everything. There is also a reason why you are here and it is for you to... understand yourself more," Freyja stated, her frame motionless. Hiccup felt an impulse to feel the woman's touch again before he caught the evanescent though and hardened his resolve.

"I _so_ preferred this dream more when I thought it would end in a different way than us having a repetitive talk about me," he said quietly, his eyes resting on the wrinkled bed sheets, closing himself off from all external influence.

"Has what you learned about yourself disgusted you?" Freyja asked in a motherly tone.

Hiccup did not react, walling his mind further.

"Hurt you?" she breathed soothingly.

Hiccup remained static.

"Or perhaps made you realise how much you are used to the routine you have created for yourself? It is natural to be afraid. Hiccup...,"

The voice caused him to look up as if he had no other choice.

"You are _not_ alone," Freyja said with certainty.

Hiccup had heard such phrases before, words of shallow compassion. They always made him feel worse, as he could feel how false they were. Nobody bothered to stop and ask him for his reasons, just... pause from the beloved routine and try to understand him. He had heard such assuring words many times before; however, this time it was different. This time he believed.

Who could understand himself than he himself?

He could not tell if Freyja wanted to say something more, although the silence told him that she would have told him more if not that no further words were necessary.

Instead, she brought her hand to Hiccup's face. He was certain she knew his mind-state and the answer he would provide although she asked.

"May I touch you?" she asked.

He pushed the pristine palm to his cheek with an awkward smile. He closed his eyes and relished the sensation succumbing to its effect, numbing his senses, biding to its will.

He inhaled the smell of soot, leather and salt as he opened his eyes. His head rolled over a black, scaly dragon's limb as he looked up at the starry sky.

At such times, he did not need anything else from the world. It was a short moment where he believed nothing else existed.

He glanced down again, facing a familiar massive, dark chest. He looked at the misshapen scales, acutely outlined in a bluish hue in the moon and star's glow.

There were scars beneath them, and he had caused them.

With his finger he traced the biggest one of them.

Toothless stirred at the touch.

He saw one big, greenish eye open sleepily and look at what he was doing. Then the dragon shifted, grabbing the boy with his forelegs into a gentle embrace, and covered most of his body with a velvet wing. He emitted a grunt as a prompt for the human to go to sleep.

The rhythmic and strong heartbeat became his favourite lullaby.

The assurance of closeness and security more soothing than any aloe balm he used for his skin.

Hiccup listened, curling as always in foetal position, becoming one and nothing at once.

Three...two...one...

_I understand now. In a way, I understood it that day..._

The boy's lonely body hunched over the dagger held in his hands as a precious token, wetted by the tears as the boy silently wept for himself. He cried until there was nothing left inside. When that happened, he wiped his eyes and walked slowly into the forest, rebuilding himself, putting the scattered chain-links together, for he did not know his existence without them... and he did not want one without them.

_Your green eyes, so much like mine...so much like my mother's..._

The small feet danced through the lines in the ground, deftly avoiding the sketched barriers.

_You forgave me, when I couldn't forgive myself.. .why? Did you see what I couldn't see? Were you lonely... like me?_

_I love you... my friend, but you must know something about me. I never really loved you.. .I loved you for the warmth of your embrace, the colour of your eyes, silence of the past I forgotten... I loved how... my friend, how much you reminded me of my mother._

Hiccup opened his eyes and carefully, not to wake up the dragon, he stood up.

_That's why, my dearest friend. I cannot face you like this. Not when I will always use you as a sedative for my selfish heart._

The boy closed his eyes.

_I will go through fire and pain for this and defeat the biggest obstacle..._

When he opened them, he was in his house, the outline around the door glowing with a softly-ranging glow, as piercing as the battle cries outside, and as numbing as the smoke seeping through the bottom.

_Myself._

He approached the door and with final, ragged breath, he opened it.

Another closed portal stood at the end of the short cold, stone corridor lit by torches.

_Why?_

He sprinted to the wooden construct and pulled it open forcefully. The sight of another passageway hurt his heart.

"Why?" He shouted and ran to open another door. Another closed threshold seemed to mock him and everything he hoped for.

"I want to know the truth!" He yelled to nobody, "I want to break the cycle!" The door's edge thrashed loudly as it was slammed forcefully against the wall, "I want to change!"

Rage. Pure unbound rage. It was what he felt at that moment. It was his mind, his dream. He would not give up.

"I am a master of myself," he said in a deadly, calm tone, contrasting with how he felt.

He raised his hand towards another sealed structure, "I create my own fate, I create my own image. I command! Open!"

The doors clanged open as if some invisible force had slammed through them in a seemingly infinite row. Hiccup ran faster than it was possible, new thresholds swishing as he passed them effortlessly. He had to move, there was no other way, only forward.

There was always only forward.

The last, unopened, door loomed over him. He expected some sort of resistance as he pulled the handle. He received none, although it was not that which made him hesitant about stepping forward. There was no next corridor. There was a wall of darkness. If, in some way, the deepest blackness had had a physical appearance, it is what it would have looked like. Hiccup stepped back. He could not touch it. No, he must not touch the anti-light. It appeared as the reality was cut off immediately after the threshold. Never before had darkness felt as it had weight... and was alive.

The thing entered his domain, not acting as a mist or liquid. Hiccup had no time to contemplate what to compare the shadow to: the very moment the thing moved into the corridor, the world started to distort and he began to scream.

He grabbed his head as he fell to his knees. Something was entering him, something alien and entirely not human. He felt himself being probed, sliced in intent. A merciless examination as when a child dissects an insect out of pure curiosity. The agony increased in volume, to levels the youth did not think existed.

He would have done anything to make the pain stop, and as he contemplated bashing his head against the wall until his skull cracked open, the thing seemed to find what it was looking for and pushed it.

He woke up. His mind still buzzed with the feeling of a blade's edge heated to whiteness pushing its way inside his brain. Then the awareness-crushing pain disappeared, leaving his mind blank. Excavated. Polluted. He would have panicked, he would have reserved himself some time to deal with this newly added trauma to his psyche, if not for this new sensation he would have recognised anytime.

An external presence was somewhere close. It was familiar and one he missed dearly. He was being called. He was being called to Toothless.

He was still in the white room, although he did not register the empty wooden stool, so grinding with the foreign exterior and the small booklet which occupied the top of the sitting device.

He had to go. His leg slipped out of the silky covers and he felt the icing coldness of the perfectly flat floor. The light in the room had been somehow reduced, his dream still went on. As he meant to take his first step, he fell to the floor.

It hurt. His elbows and knee hurt along with his stump as he bumped it against the immaculate surface. Dreams were not supposed to hurt. He bit his lip to silence the yelp which almost escaped his lips.

"I'm a master of myself...," he whispered, trying his best to give himself a leg back. Hot sweat poured from his face, his lungs hurt as he breathed and felt an unmistakeable symptoms of upcoming fever.

"I'm a master of myself," he said hoarsely. The pull on his mind increased in power. Toothless was getting impatient. On three limbs, he moved towards one of the walls as a crippled infant, fighting with every move.

His pained condition did not go away nor did he have his appendage back. Nothing was supposed to work like this. It was his imagination; everything was bound to yield to his will. As the wall was getting near, he contemplated the nature of the reality he had created, why it had to feel so... real.

In every vision he experienced, he had some sense of purpose, wonder, an addition to unreality.

This... this felt strangely natural, eerily life-like. His thoughts were slow, sluggish. He found it easier not to muse over anything and let his body do the work.

He was summoned to the direction of a solid barrier with lines running along it. He was ready to follow his best friend's call and bump his head against the wall.

Before he was able to do that, the wall disappeared.

His mind did not register the wings of the wall sliding into themselves, opening a new corridor.

Hiccup slid his limbs slowly, his crawl marked by a trail of sweat droplets.

Something hummed with a low sound, an unknown source cast a blue, gentle glow at the whole area, defining every imperfection of the surface with distinct clarity.

Hiccup paid no heed to any of it. Toothless needed him, and he was getting nigh. Another wall with lines in it.

Again it swung into itself quickly as he approached. As he passed the threshold, the wall renewed itself and the world darkened. It was also much louder in the next room besides the limited light.

There were rows of something he recognised as shelves made of some sort of metal. His trembling hands slid onto one and he pulled himself to an upright position. The exercise took almost all of his energy and he panted, his whole body drenched in perspiration.

Something was emitting a loud, unnatural sound that stopped with a quieter click only to repeat itself. It was coming from something by the wall, quite close to him.

He had to blink a few times to adjust to the almost-blinding soft white light coming from inside it. He moved alongside the ledge, using it as a support as he hobbled to the noise-maker. There was something black and metallic moving behind the glass with repetitious motions.

Fascinated by the sight, he observed, not knowing what to do. He looked up the box and he noticed what appeared to be ropes attached to it. He was impressed by the way his mind worked. He would have never suspected himself of such creativity.

He peeked at the bottom of the transparent container in curiosity at what was there. He immediately grabbed the shelf's edge harder with one hand and used the other to cover his mouth, urging himself not to fall to his knees and vomit violently.

There was some sort of pink fluid at the bottom, and in the middle of the jar was a piece of meat. This would have been accepted by him if not for the ghost-white digits sticking out of it. This was a part of a human foot.

He had to escape from that thing. Toothless...he had to find Toothless.

Another source of light appeared in front of him, although he could not see exactly what was casting it. It changed colour rapidly, from orange, then red to blue as it illuminated the metallic stairs leading down.

Wherever it led, the Fury was there. The clicking of the macabre device quieted behind him as he slowly crawled forward. Numerous black ropes lay on the floor, all sprawled on the stairs disappearing into the belly of another room. They all emerged from another large item in the corner which produced a strange hum that made his whole body vibrate.

He did not investigate matters this time. He stopped to catch his breath before the stairs. His endurance was at its limit. Glancing down the the stairs and the passageway, vast enough to fill several well grown men, loomed an impossible obstacle.

The chromatic display was dispersing the little focus he had left. Hiccup used some of the ropes which seeped and attached them to the wall. He used this as a handrail to pull himself up and lean against as he descended.

His weakened leg, alas, did not hold his weight, and he fell.

Luckily for him, only one step remained, which was not enough for him to break his neck.

Still, it hurt as he once more tried to gather himself from the ground. He smiled, for the first time since he had woken up. Despite his pathetic mental and physical state, he had reached his goal.

Toothless was before him. He lifted his head with a grin adorning his face.

…He wished he had never looked up.

His dearest companion was exactly where he thought he would be, looking down at him…

He started to hyperventilate. A dream. It was a dream. Just a dream.

First, what he saw were nails.

Hundreds of silverish implements pierced Toothless body as he floated in a gigantic tank.

Hiccup thought of it as of a glassy jar filled with vinegar, like those he saw in some Viking homes whose occupants enjoyed displaying preserved dragon organs as part of the inner decor.

The dragon's green eyes were dulled, empty, yet clearly visible through the transparent fluid.

The fanged jaws hung open.

Toothless was not moving, he merely floated in a spot as one of those displays on the Viking's vessels.

Toothless was dead.

Movement on his right caught his eye. He saw a person, bathed in the hue of colours sent from rectangular windows that displayed images.

Images of what Hiccup could not identify, as they changed so rapidly. This was a mishmash of pictures. Before the windows, clad in white, was Freyja, her gold hair as impossible to miss as her beauty.

Hiccup prayed she would not turn back and see him, as he wanted to return and escape, his body fuelled by adrenaline and instinct of survival.

A small spark from one of the black ropes next to him caused him to yelp in surprise. He knew what would happen next, and there was only one thought in his mind as he saw two golden eyes looking at him. The goddess's face twisted in shock for a split second before her now-golden eyes narrowed in a mask of indifference.

She had killed Toothless, and now she was coming for him.

Hiccup backpedalled as much as he could for his crippled state, hitting the wall too soon with his back.

Freyja walked towards him slowly in deadly calmness, no hurry in her movements. She was graceful even as a paragon of death.

Hiccup felt a pang of a pressure on his mind, trying to subdue him, turn him into a lamb mindlessly being led to slaughter.

He did not want to die. He did not want to end up being pierced by metal and turned into a demented exhibit.

Freyja flinched and stopped her approach.

"Hiccup...," her lips moved,"You need to let me help you. What you are doing now is going to destroy you. You need to stop it." Her sharply accented words did not make any real sense to the boy as his breathing deepened.

He felt hot, and the air seemed to shift itself before him.

"Hiccup! Calm yourself!" If Hiccup had been coherent, this would have sounded as if the goddess had let slip out the subtlest hint of fear.

The other presence in his mind was erased. Heat inside his body increased and begged to be released to the point of pain.

Freyja took a step closer.

"D-don't come near!" Hiccup shouted in a high-pitched voice, panting, the burning hot sheen of sweat covering his face. Everything felt too hot, even his breathing.

The divine entity stretched her hand towards him in the universal gesture that asked for trust.

"I will explain everything. You need to stop letting the panic lure you. You are unstable now. Everything will be all right, you just need to-."

Whatever Freyja wanted him to do, it was stopped as he coughed, a spray of blood marking his white trousers. Hiccup started to giggle uncontrollably at this sight.

"It's-it's a dream... a dream. N-not real. No...no, no, no."

He saw Freyja close the distance to him in a blink of an eye, although not fast enough that he could not react.

"Noooooo!" He screamed in pure will to stay alive. At a close distance, it became clear, now, that Freyja appeared scared and focused. The force to repress him clashed against his volition.

Whenever he still shouted or not was beyond him; his desire to repel danger quelled his last shreds of reason.

Freyja transferred all the energy he used outside him. The pressure existing around the boy concentrated into something almost physical in front of the woman as her wide-open eyes shined with determination.

It did not stop Hiccup from wanting to protect himself, though.

He put everything, all his existence, into taking his power back.

He did something.

However, nothing he could have done should have made the air …explode?

Freyja's body flew as if hit with a catapult projectile. She slammed against the room equipment and then the wall violently.

The release brought a momentary stability to Hiccup.

Just at the same time as the female did, he saw two, black shredded pieces of metal protruding from Freyja's chest, sparks from the destroyed instruments around her penetrated body.

A thick line of blood streamed out from the corner of her lips and her head hung limply, her golden hair covering her face.

Everything stilled for the youth, plunging into silence.

The electric discharges continued, crackling loudly around the woman's corpse and lighting the space briefly in bright flashes.

Hiccup did not hear them. He realised that his head had hit the floor and that he could not move.

His body was drained beyond his capacity to care anymore.

He did not react, except for moving his eyeballs upwards as the corpse of the women moved.

Dented debris slid off her body, as with a stiffed grunt, the goddess pushed herself forward.

A severed, sparking rope writhed by Freyja's feet; it caused an arc, illuminating the destruction.

No item was left intact in the path of the hurled figure. At the end of the demolished opening, a woman stood in shredded clothing, covering her now-bared chest with her hands.

This turned out not to be for modesty but for the youth to not see the disturbing image of her rapidly-reconstructing flesh.

She took a deep breath, grated her throat, and spat out all the blood that lingered in her lungs.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," Freyja spoke with gentle hoarseness from her position, leaning away from the defenceless teen.

Had Hiccup not been deadly terrified by her, he would have believed her, for that was how much compassion her voice carried.

"We will speak later, Hiccup. For now... you must feel very tired."

Hiccup,indeed, felt extremely fatigued.

"Take a rest and we will discuss everything after you feel better. How does that sound?" she said,motherly.

For the collapsed boy this sounded excellent: he would wake up in his room and everything he had experienced would only be a dream.

Obediently, he closed his eyes without a care in the world.

* * *

Inanna barely had the time to lift up the battered youth's body and levitate it to her side, when a voice echoed in her head with more power than she would have wanted at that moment.

**_Seven? Status!_**

It had not gone according to her plan, which annoyed her. Despite her age, things very rarely went against her will.

**_Disengage, Aion. Situation contained. Hiccup was just... sleepwalking. Don_****_'_****_t destroy the entry gate if you can, please_**

Again, she did not have the time to make a first move before hearing a very irritated answer.

**_Akil sensed a tier-three, quasi-stable Tagma discharge! Report!_**

Seven did not answer, instead focusing on a more important task.

From one of the panels, a glove-like device flew to her. She caught it mid-air and put it on her palm. The device immediately jumped to life, and a small hologram appeared above her hand.

She started sliding it slowly from Hiccup's head downwards, moving a gloved finger slightly to give a command to the scanning mechanism.

Hiccup's hair floated freely in the air, as if he were submerged in the water.

Seven's pinkie finger twitched, and the holographic image zoomed in slightly. As she studied the visualisation, something barrelled into the room with a gust of wind and a screech of claws grinding on the reinforced surface as the dragon decelerated.

Seven did not even glance as the Nadder scanned the surroundings, posture lowered, wings open, ready to rip into shreds anything suspicious_._

**_Why are you not reporting, Keeper?_**The Nadder's telepathic message to Seven was full of righteous irritation.

The enigmatic woman did not answer before finishing the teen's examination. That took long enough for the overzealous dragon to calm down a bit. Seven was more talkative one in their duo and, if she did not speak, she always had a good justification.

The hologram died out instantaneously as Seven folded her palm into a fist and then addressed her colleague.

**_Transient_**, she sent the word to everybody in the vicinity. The term was not addressed to the blue scaled warrior by her side.

Air from the relatively debris-free side quivered shortly. Then, in a cascade of electric arcs, much smaller and less noisy than the one constantly cracking at the other side of the room, a purple dragoness appeared. The specialised scales, forked at the top, clapped against her side when she made herself visible again.

**_I listen_**, she telepathized indifferently.

**_Is your Scalgertar still stationed by the nearby island?_** Seven asked as she walked up by the Nadder. She gently floated Hiccup's unconscious body onto his back.

Both Seven and the Nadder communicated something between each other. Then the bipedal beast left, carefully moving to protect his living passenger.

**_Yes, Vorgar _****_é_****_ Visa. As planned, Braedan is waiting for your instructions,_** Balerdargur informed un-agitatedly.

**_Proceed to his localisation, inform him to come to Berk and station in the village. You may leave, Transient. _**

Seven had barely finished thought-sending the words, when the purple dragoness concealed her visual presence and left. Her ability to remain invisible could not work on Seven or the Nadder, although it was a useful feature for observation.

The woman walked slowly to the water tank, broken glass crunching beneath her boots.

The electric cracking stopped: the reactor's systems must have switched off automatically at the detection of a continuing abnormality in energy output.

She looked into the dull eyes of Toothless, tilting her head to the side as if trying to find an answer to her questions in them.

**_It was impossible for Hiccup to wake up on his own_**, the Nadder conveyed as he entered the room once more after having put his luggage back into a bed in a certain house in Berk. **_Won't he regain consciousness again?_** He asked, looking inside the tank as well.

**_Who can tell?_** Seven answered philosophically, **_however, on the first assumption you are correct. It was impossible for Hiccup to drift into reality, unless..._** she waited patiently for him to finish.

**_He was guided from the outside_****,** the Nadder completed for her, **_It might have been a simple signal between them due to the close proximity between their bodies. An automated response,_** he provided one of the solutions.

Seven slowly caressed the edge of one eye with a finger. **_No_,** she finally communicated,** _the signal was used only to lure the boy closer. I can only speculate at this point, but I am almost certain that Hiccup cannot come in close contact with the second-born,_** she telepathised calmly, still stroking the rim of her eye socket in thought.

**_It is not a second-born, Seven. It's...he_****_'_****_s still Toothless! There_****_'_****_s something implanted in him, and you need to find a way to take it out!_** The Nadder's voice sounded almost pleading.

The Keeper once more did not answer, nor ceased that eye-rubbing quirk she had while processing information.

**_My Bidding stands clear, First- Speaker. Toothless is not known as a second-born and to be contained and observed-_**

**_You cannot be certain yet-_**

**_Please return to your post in the Haddock_****_'_****_s household and ensure nobody will know about Hiccup's disappearance tonight. We have already taken quite a risk by taking him out before... that is all, First-Speaker,_** Seven communicated with perfect tranquillity, continuing to process information.

The Nadder swirled in place and did as he was ordered to.

After a moment, the humanoid creature dropped her hand from her face and leaned close to the glass, almost touching it with her nose.

"Why won't you let Hiccup have peace with himself?" She asked, seemingly talking to herself as the body inside the tank did not stir.

The metabolic, chemical and electrical processes inside the Fury's body were all negative, still somehow Toothless, …no… IT had managed to access the boy.

From now on, she would not give the second-born that chance. She needed Hiccup to regain psychical balance at all costs, and she could not afford to lose more time than she already had.

Too much was at stake. It was due time to schedule a live conversation with the boy and inform him of the current happenings.

* * *

Two hours later, Hiccup still lay in the room with the white ceiling.

Soon enough, a woman entered and currently read a small book, sitting on a high stool.

Seven waited, protecting the unaware human from any harm. Visible and invisible.

She waited patiently for him to wake up and she was certain it would not take much longer.

A page was turned and Hiccup's eyes shot open.

* * *

**AN: That's it for this chapter. Believe it or not I still experiment with my writing style and I changed it a little bit for this chapter. And I need you to tell me if it works. Until next time!**


	35. A Long Night

**AN: I am sooo late, but it is what you get when you work 7 days per week and have a case of writer's block. Dialogue is my nemesis. Story's cover was made by ever-awesome Fjord Mustang! Again, if you enjoy my story and you stick around for more than 390k words. Go make yourself a favour and read her stories. They are better and they were what inspired me to look at novels from different point of view than a reader. **

**Special thanks to my second beta-reader the mysterious Frog-Chaser.  
**

**(If you do not remember what happened in the last chapter, go re-read it).  
**

**This chapter is aimed _heavily_ to explain and establish a stable plot for the future. I hope it will explain a lot. A. LOT.  
**

* * *

Crawl away, shout, or fight?

Hiccup would have done any and all of them had he been able to move or articulate anything. However, his eyeballs' movements would have to suffice as the only way of expressing his emotions. Right then, his eyes were wide open and glossy with silent terror.

Despite the feeling that his body was spent and as responsive as a paralysed person's, unexpressed emotions swirled through him. Feeling trapped in helpless despair, he tightly closed his eyes, strongly hoping that his will would dispel this nightmare.

But it did not work, as it turned out. He realized this when he saw another pair of eyes looking back at him.

He followed them as the goddess approached him. Hiccup despised looking into her insensate blue irises. Out of a primal survival instinct, he tried to detect in them a shred of his captor's intentions.

He understood his very serious situation, unable to move and at the mercy of the being who had killed his best friend.

He reacted in the only way that was left to him.

"Shhh," Freyja soothed as she wiped his cheek gently where hot tears dripped, "It's all right now. I'm here. Nothing will hurt you."

She continued telling him sweet words he did not- and would not - believe.

"I can see that you don't like my eyes," she cast them away from his terrified stare, "Did you know that only a certain few people… special people like you... can see that there is something fundamentally wrong, even abhorrent, with my eyes. Even I do not know how they can do that.

" Do you know, Hiccup, why you do not like my eyes?" She asked, lowering her head to his ear, her breath washing over it as her lips almost touched the sensitive skin, "it's because they are not real," she whispered and straightened herself.

She stroked his check affectionately once more, and sat back on the stool with the book on her lap, appearing as defenceless, benevolent and pure as possible.

Hiccup continued to weep from fear and loss.

"You said that what you lack is understanding and I can give you one of the items necessary for its achievement: Knowledge," she said evenly, "What you are experiencing now is what could be translated as 'Post Withdrawal Body Dissonance Exhaustion Complex'."

She raised her hand slowly, put a delicate-looking fingertip on her eye-rim, and caressed it slowly.

"Toothless is alive," she finally said. The words hung in the air. She observed Hiccup's reaction with clinical acuteness as his eyes changed their expression.

For too long, in the boy's opinion, she continued staring, never taking her eyes from his.

" Now, you've entered the stage of doubt. It's a completely understandable reaction after witnessing such an... unfortunate scene," she paused and Hiccup indeed had doubts about anything he heard. Although at that pause, he thought she softened her voice and choice of words to appear more human to him.

Her serene expression remained anything but human. Then she sprung from her seat with surprising speed.

"Now that I finally have a more open-minded reaction from you, now that you're starting to consider actually listening to an explanation… well, now is a good time to make you regain the ability to speak."

Freyja outstretched her open hand and held it over Hiccup's sternum. He could not say anything to protest. He felt a warm force emanate from the hand and fill his whole body. He had expected another agonising experience, yet this one felt pleasant and his body seemed to greedily accept whatever flew through him.

"As I had been trying to say when your brain was still in full panic mode," the woman said conversationally, "your body suffers from the effects of trying to use too much in one go."

That, the boy understood. The change of demeanour and approach towards him has not been missed by him.

She struck him as neither and noticed she had simplified her explanation for him to understand. Freyja removed her hand and the idyllic sensation ceased, much to Hiccup's unexpected disappointment.

"Can you speak?" she asked softly, looking at his face expectantly. The boy wanted to talk; well, primarily, he wanted to do something else, actually. His lips moved, the silence continued. The tall woman tilted her head and then leaned quickly.

"I'm ready when you are," she said nonchalantly, lifting her chin. Now was the time for him to do that something else.

Hiccup's right hand whipped from the covers and squeezed around Freyja's neck. With surprising ease, he overpowered her as he leaned over her, now both palms pressed tightly against the cervix. The strikingly blue eyes looked up at him without any emotion as she now lay on his lap, hair sprawled in disarray, looking calm, consenting.

"How can I know this is not another dream?" he hissed hoarsely, his throat hurting from thirst, he realised, although he ignored it, "How can I know this is not another projection created by my mind. Or-or," he struggled, his hands quivering as he recalled the dark wall inching towards him, entering, blemish his mind, his last fortress against the world, " I know you're somehow trying to control me! What if you are not real? What...what if Toothless is really dead?" He asked, unsure whether he was actually asking this to someone other than himself, fighting with his own nightmares.

He choked on the upcoming words, " I...I can't tell what is real and what is not."

Hiccup's hands were no longer forceful, now they seemed to clinging to her for assurance. The woman looked long into Hiccup's eyes. Her indifference stayed in place as a tear splashed onto her cheek and the only human in the room openly wept.

She _was _impassive, yet her hands wavered before she freed herself from Hiccup's now-clumsy hold and embraced him close to her chest. Hiccup noticed she continued to smel like blood and probably always would.

"My intention is not to hurt you," she said and, for the first time, Hiccup believed her.

She shifted her body, returning to the "neutral ground" at Hiccup's bedside and waited for the boy to calm himself. He did so, gradually.

"Thirsty?" she eventually asked, knowing the answer. Hiccup nodded and felt a subtle working of energies close to his right- hand side. He turned in that direction and saw a glass being levitated to him from a silverish table. Not a mug, _an actual container made of glass_! It had been a long time since he had seen something like that.

He still did not know if any of this was real, although he had started to trust Freyja.

For all he knew, this _was_ real and he _was_ talking to a goddess. That thought filled him with dread. He had never been a very religious person, although meeting face to face with a paragon of divinity...

Not wanting to think about anything more, he weakly grabbed the glass and took it to his lips. He gulped it all down quickly. When he finished, the glass gently pulled itself from his hands, flew slowly and landed back on the table again.

"To answer your question. Yes, there is a simple rule to reality recognition. A dream, even induced and influenced by external sources, is always something which is responding to your wishes.

"As you earlier said, 'Your dream, your rules.' That is only applicable, of course, once you realise that you actually are dreaming. That is another rule you can use when being in doubt.

"Most of the time, you do not realise that you are dreaming until you wake up," she continued explaining in her even, tranquil voice, "Another point for you to consider: strong enough stimuli can cause you to wake up. For example: light intensiveness, sound, touch or... pain."

Hiccup listened, not wanting to interrupt, although he now started seeing a pattern in her logic.

"Improbability of situations. Dreams tend to shift rapidly; they are rarely coherent and consistent. The flow of time is not continuous, and it does not seem to vex the perceiver. Now, can you tell me, from what you recently experienced, what was real and what was not?" Freyja asked, tilting her head to the side. She appeared curious about his answer.

Hiccup bent his knee to his chest. His stump still hurt as much as ever.

Hurt.

"Every time I experienced being here...it was real," he said, his voice weak, "It was a mistake on my part to assume that it was my fantasy. You did not help me realise my mistake," he said this without accusation, mainly as observation. He did not expect any expression of guilt, and he was not disappointed.

"You are correct," the woman spoke and blinked. It was the first time Hiccup had seen her blink, "I was surprised by your particular assumption about unreality. But I did decide to assume the role of what you thought I was."

Hiccup might have blushed had he not felt so tired and had his mind so focused on his dead friend. He now just listened to Freyja speak.

"My objective was to stabilise your psychological state, not to reveal myself. I failed to do this, however, and the situation now must be approached from a different direction," she said.

Hiccup blinked again- for the fifty-sixth time his interlocutor observed. He was now matching Freyja with a still expression, his gaze miserable, hers neutral.

The white room _was _real, his inner talk and reminiscence of his childhood was _not_. That night with Toothless was a dream as well... that meant that the way he saw the Fury, suspended in a liquid, skewered by uncountable metal pieces...

"Why did you do all of it...for me?" He asked with a calmness which would have surprised him had he cared at least a little.

The woman paused for a moment, considering his words, "Because in any other way you would not have become accomplished in using... 'dragon magic' I believe you call it," she elaborated.

As before, Hiccup was not intrigued. Not after what he had experienced. He did not answer this revelation and he did not have to, as Freyja filled in the gaps for him.

"The _magic_," she stressed the world in such way it was impossible to miss that she did not like the term, "cannot be operated with a disturbed psyche... certainly not on the levels you are capable of entering. Dragons use another technique that enables them to enter a state of tranquillity where all emotions are suppressed for the benefit of a clearer, more rational approach necessary for safety of the user and best effectiveness. Emotions are the biggest enemy of _magic._

" However, we will discuss the further implications of your emotional state the next time we meet," she said as a statement.

So there _would _be a next time, whether Hiccup wanted it or not. That statement, more than any of the revelations she had made, gave him back his will.

"You're quite a liar and manipulator, aren't you? I would've expected such behavior more from Loki than from you," Hiccup said evenly, looking directly into those blue eyes he disliked so much.

"Aren't we all liars and manipulators on some level?" Freyja immediately answered.

The one-legged teen felt a subtle surge of guilt as he remembered every occasion he had lied, concealed truth or guided others without them knowing about it.

"It's almost certain you've had a long time to beguile yourself about the meaning of truth and lie when you struggled throughout the Dragon Training; therefore I won't elaborate on the topic myself. That said, here is my shard of truth: I'm actually not Freyja, the goddess from your pantheon. I took this name to help you adjust to the situation you thought you were in. Please, from now on call me 'Seven'," she requested warmly, a small smile even appearing on her face.

Hiccup felt relieved, though he tried not to notice it. He was not dealing with a deity, then! He was deeply curious, now, of what exactly _was _this creature who spoke to him with such melodious inflection. He had a foundation now to consider his situation and a support for his fragile mind-state.

There still was only one thing, though, that would keep him from plunging back into a despairing, unresponsive pile of flesh, and that was the possibility that Toothless might still be alive.

"Seven, what happened to Toothless?" he asked normally, even although there was no reason for him to behave so calmly.

She blinked again, responding to something meaningful in his words. Hiccup cared only about her answer, not appearance.

"Hiccup, I sense you don't completely trust my words yet, and I do not want to waste any more of our time together. We still need to deliver you before sunrise to your house. That is in... four hours twelve minutes and twenty two seconds... roughly speaking," Seven said with a face washed of all emotions.

Hiccup did not answer, afraid of what would happen if he angered his host by disrespect. When he recalled that he had just recently tried to strangle her, stating his opinion would not be worse.

She knew about his condition more than he did, so instead he tried different topic.

"Then, where am I now?" he asked.

"I cannot disclose this information to you. We are not on the most trusting of terms for now. Telling you that would be a bad tactical choice on my part. I would not want you walking in here uninvited or without supervision. I'm sure you understand," Seven declared.

Hiccup understood and knew that he had just been cut off from pursuing the topic. Still, Seven had given him some information to work with: the time until sunset, her desire to hurry and his need to be "returned" before sunrise.

From that, he could deduce that he was kept somewhere near Berk, it was night outside and, along with that, he now realized how he was transported "here".

Every night, the Nadder would come to his house, wait for him to fall asleep, use some _dragon magic_ to hold him asleep while Hiccup was being moved and returned before sunrise...

That did not explain the Nadder's connection to Seven; however, he could clearly conclude that they worked together in some way. With the Nadder's ability to stop people's minds while removing Hiccup out of his house when there was hardly anyone around... if he were the dragon, Hiccup would have used some of his _magic _to make the Chieftain's sleep deeper.

Hiccup had now formulated a decent understanding of his situation, and he was not amused by what was happening to him.

"What happened to Toothless?" he queried, no determination traceable in his words.

Seven paused before answering to shut her eyes briefly, "You still do not trust me enough to believe my words. The explanation would seem... unlikely, even to you," she spoke, never avoiding eye contact, "As much as I respect your intelligence, your emotional side blinds your rational approach,"

Hiccup waited, unmoving. He might have lost interest in pretty much everything except Toothless' well-being; however, he was attentive like he had never before.

Seven continued, "Please, let _us_ resume my actions towards you. I admittedly was dishonest with my personification of Freyja and not dispelling the illusion of dream. I did it for your benefit. I guided the conversation... sometimes crudely and using... less subtle forms of persuasion because of the limited time frame. I predicted that it was highly unlikely for you not to _deal_ with your personal problems. We both know how it ended and that the source of the interruption was not coming from me," she intermitted. Hiccup caught that she waited for a sign of confirmation from him.

She wanted him to realise that her points were valid or to get a validation of his cooperation, he thought.

Hiccup nodded weakly.

"Then, your temporary _loss _of control as you saw Toothless seemingly dead..." Freyja noticed the youth now shifted his head from his knee with a first spark of interest in his eyes. She nodded and continued, "You must know by now that _you_, also, are able to generate _magic_ in your body. The amount of energy you were about to release earlier would have easily killed you. Without your being able to control it properly, I had to take essential measures to ensure _your _safety. I extracted the energy out of your body to the outside and tried to disperse it; however..." her tone shifted.

Hiccup observed that she sounded almost irritated or angry rather than regretful, "With a more than generous push from me to destabilise the created shape... it dispersed as I wanted, although in a much more violent manner as I expected. The result was that I wound up getting thrown into the wall… for some strange reason."

Hiccup had no doubt then, she really _was _angry.

"Sorry," he said, quite clearly before he stopped himself. He still felt that that he had not overreacted, given the circumstances.

"No permanent damage done, no grudge held," Seven said as if she meant it. Perhaps she even did, "With this little elucidation out of the way, I can now begin the tale that will put you more at ease about your companion's condition."

Hiccup clenched his jaw tight and closed his eyes, not letting any word get past him unremembered.

* * *

_Six days ago_

Toothless let his breath out slowly. He had reached the congenial state required to operate Tagma at the levels he could consider as dangerous. To his satisfaction, he noted that during two days of continuous training under the Nadder's supervision or as he called it, _monitoring_, Toothless made fewer mistakes in regulating the energy flow. The bipedal drake had to rectify him less and less.

Even though Toothless still could not move and just barely blink in order to hold his concentration, he was extremely proud of his achievement. Just like any good teacher, the Nadder would not be himself if he not done his best to distract Toothless and push his abilities further.

The two dragons were now on the outskirts of the island in a quite picturesque (for humans) forest clearing with short, yellow grass and spiky-leaved trees.

"Hit it," the Nadder commanded shortly.

It was a moment which the Fury had well-established reasons not to like. Initially, he had been thoroughly evaluated by the older dragon from basics to more advanced techniques. The currently-scale-regenerating Life Teacher was not appeased by anything Toothless demonstrated.

The only thing he considered impressive was how Toothless was able to heal his internal injuries. He described it using technical terms Toothless had no use or care for, terms such as 'Incentivised Cellular Division' and 'Actuated Mass Transfer'. When the ebony creature asked him why he used such unwieldy words he has no means of understanding, his mentor replied that it was one of the mental problems he developed from dealing with Seven, an overcomplication of even the simplest tasks.

"Hit it," the Nadder prompted again. He sounded uninterested with the whole, repetitive ordeal. It was his usual world-weary, demeanor, so Toothless did not think about it too much.

Toothless lifted his paw to strike the enemy. The foe did not waver before the dragon's claw-equipped appendage, quite possibly because trees did not have the ability to quiver in fear. The brown bark stood proudly, awaiting the incoming blow with the unbreakable patience only a plant can show.

The Fury's objective was simple; he needed to inflict damage to the tree without touching it. The Nadder had explained how to transfer energy outside the body and had demonstrated the technique.

Still, all Toothless managed was to transfer his energy into a hurting and sore leg. The energy he stored in the leg was enough to shatter any stone and, for some reason, he could not let it outside his body.

He kept his paw next to the bark, almost touching it. Exhaling, he released the flowing force. He felt a dull throbbing of his outstretched limb as a quick hiss of wind lifted several leaves off the ground when the Nadder directed the stored Tagma around his leg and released it sharply.

This time, the Nadder did not comment. He scratched himself near the crystal in his chest with his claw. Toothless always marvelled how that leg could stretch in ways he normally thought impossible.

"So, IT actually sealed your ability to use Tagma outside your body," the spike-headed dragon said idly, "How boring."

Toothless placed his pain- seared paw on the ground and felt a sharp throb of agony.

"Show me the leg," the Nadder ordered. The tailfin -crippled Night Fury made certain his body language he did not show how much it hurt.

"That won't be necessary," Toothless answered calmly, still under influence of mind-control. He closed his eyes and visualised the interior of his limb. The Nadder's eyes narrowed as he observed the proceedings with a sudden, ravenous interest. After a moment, the dark eyelids opened.

"I will be able to heal it by tomorrow," Toothless reported.

"What damage, exactly, did you sustain?" The Nadder asked and got a throaty snort in reply.

The Fury let his irritation flow freely, no longer bothering to remain emotionless. He particularly did not like the way his teacher now talked. It was alien and he could not identify what part of alien.

"I would've not _sustained _any _damage _if you had not insisted that I use such a large amount of Tagma. Now I won't be able to train for the next sun-cycle!" he spat irritably.

The Nadder yawned, confirming his unyielding attention, and snapped his jaws shut loudly.

"There won't be any training for you for the next sun-cycle, as you will be visiting Seven with me soon," he smacked his lips.

Toothless' ears shot upwards at the mention of Seven's name. He was curious about the Guide and of what she would teach him. Perhaps she would find the cause of his condition! He secretly hoped she would heal his aching heart.

"So, indulge my boredom and show me what you've learned. What, exactly, makes one a Master?" The Nadder asked suddenly as he rolled on his back and looked at the clouded, grey sky with profound disinterest.

"They have... full control over their abilities while others only have mild or advanced techniques," Toothless explained.

This time the pock-marked drake snorted, leaving a billow of misted fumes hovering above his smirking muzzle.

Smirking, laughing, talking...in so many ways Toothless saw human behaviour in his eccentric mentor.

Toothless still felt he needed some time to adjust to human body language. The only prior experiences he had known of laughing and using a full spectrum of muzzle expression had come from IT. He had a strong inclination towards humanity, the six-eyed behemoth used to say.

Toothless smiled to himself. It was good to think of the hated creature as a pile of rotting flesh.

"You amaze me, _Engar, _once more_," _The Nadder trebled," with your impressive range of stupidity."

Toothless wrinkled his nose and concentrated on imagining how good it would feel to slice a certain creature apart.

"Still, your lack of knowledge _is _understandable... no, my backward pup…"

Toothless commented on this word choice with a growl that was, as usual, ignored,

"…The difference is much more distinct. Masters can manipulate Tagma outside their body."

The Fury waited for him to continue with an apprehensive blink.

"That's all, _Engar,_" The Nadder inspected a claw for sharpness and gave a bored nod.

"That sounds...weak," Toothless pointed out.

The Nadder now flared his lips, and his student felt a tingle running down his spine.

He learned to discern between different types of Nadder muzzle expressions, and this one was reserved when Toothless was about to get something demonstrated.

On him.

Painfully.

He promised this time not to roar in agony.

Seconds after these mental preparations, Toothless was rolling on the ground, yowling in agony. As quickly as the sensation came, it was gone. The Fury stilled his breathing and again took a look inside his body to assess the damage.

"_What_ did you do?" he growled when he did not find anything, his head pounding with torment.

"I squeezed one of the veins in your brain," the Nadder chirped cheerfully.

Toothless needed a moment to absorb the information. Then he lunged at the casually sprawled dragon with a bloodthirsty cry.

Nanoseconds later, Toothless realized he was now lying in a similar position as the Master. He had just been subdued once more without as much as a lift of a claw or tail quill.

"So how is that for weak, _Engar?"_ The Nadder asked brightly, all quills and happiness.

"I'm _not_ complimenting you," Toothless stated, looking at the sky as well.

"But I _want_ to be complimented!" the Nadder stated, appearing hurt.

The Fury was certain there was a better way to get praise than to risk permanent brain damage to the one who was supposed to praise.

"It means I will never be a Master," Toothless stated, anger growing in him. He was already injured, and more than doubly: his tail-fin, his heart, his inability to progress with Tagma control. He was _useless_ for Hiccup!

The Nadder glanced athim briefly as the dark creature lifted himself to his feet.

"That is not true, _Engar. _I was waiting for you to notice it; however, you are too focused on negativity to see the truth for yourself. Now, can you create the small plasmoid you used on Hiccup again?" He asked.

Toothless huffed through his nose and opened his mouth. A small ball, filled with blue- hued electricity, came flying out and stopped in front of the disgruntled Fury.

He had recently learned that the spherical form of fire he created was called a 'plasmoid'. It seemed another of Seven's complicating words.

The Nadder did not look at him, "Can you levitate it towards me?"

Toothless did as asked. The small orb stopped directly above the Master's fanged muzzle.

"Now, tell me, again, what the ability of the Master is?" The Nadder asked calmly.

"Use Tagma outside their body," Toothless repeated.

"And, pray tell, how did you move the plasmoid towards me?" The older dragon queried in the same, sedated tone.

Toothless looked at the hovering sphere, thinking for a moment," I did it using..."

_What exactly?_

Then the answer struck him, "I can use Tagma outside my body?" He asked in disbelief hurled the lightning-filled structure towards him, "I really can do this!" He announced with pride, without volume restrictions.

"I'm not sure why, of all things, you can only control this," the Nadder said to the Fury, who was shuddering with anticipation.

Then the Master stood up quickly, "Come. It is time for us to depart and meet Seven," he said soberly.

Toothless considered the suddenly now-serious demeanour of his training-companion.

At the same time his nose started tingling.

Dismissing the annoying sensation, he let the plasmoid flash as it vanished. Right as it ended its existence the Fury caught something at the edge of his eye. A white outline of something attached to the tree bark.

Curious, he created another lightning-saturated globe and, as he took a step forward, he cast it towards the anomaly, detonating the orb right before the tree.

Toothless' pupils became sharp pinpricks. Time slowed to almost a halt as the effects of Battle Seer took control of his body. The plasmoid disappeared with a rapid illumination, and he could clearly see the outline of a hidden creature.

Its edges seemed to ruffle and waver for a moment as they started to disappear once more, almost instantaneously. In Toothless' statem instantaneously meant sluggishly slow.

Before the lines vanished, the Fury was already by its side, aiming at what he hoped was its neck. He did not restrain himself as his paw connected.

The Nadder turned sharply as he heard loud cracking sound. There was an unmistakable shattering of wood and then a momentary silence.

He saw several trees drop heavily to the ground as their trunks were shattered behind the blow. The Fury seemed to stand still above something which left a deep path on the ground as if mercilessly stricken.

Toothless was ready to strike, paw raised, his claws' transparent edges glinting above the fallen form.

The Nadder had to react quickly. He was afraid for the dragon's safet, and not the one laying on the ground with deadly sharp claws on its neck, one second from decaptation.

No, he had to stop Toothless before _he _got hurt.

The Fury had a problem. He looked, without missing a detail, at a purple dragoness he pinned on the last tree that had held against his onslaught.

He smelled a distinct smell of blood as he pressed against her neck and could feel a tingle of electricity dancing on his skin as her whole body slowly came into view. He wanted to end the fight quickly, kill this intruder as efficiently as possible.

His striking forepaw was suddenly caught, blocked by no physical force. On the contrary, the force keeping his limb pinned in space was something he was familiar with. Since the young dragoness (he judged her age and gender by her scent) could use Tagma outside her body to a degree powerful enough to stop him when he was admittedly at his strongest he briefly considered retreat.

Before he was able to react, he was surprised once more. The intruder's body shined brightly, and Toothless was thrown backwards. His body spasmed as he landed heavily on the ground.

With fading consciousness, he realised that it was _his_ body that shined as brightly as a star. He had just been struck with lightning… his body should not smoke…

The Nadder walked over the incapacitated form of the Fury and then, bored, scratched the ankle on one of his legs.

The violet dragoness stood shakily, arcs of electricity dancing around her hide, igniting scattered leaves into small fires. She coughed bits of blood, the red ichor falling from her neck, which now sported few cuts beneath destroyed scales. With a growl of annoyance more than pain, she lifted herself from her undignified position, wheezing from exertion.

"Transient, need assistance?" The Nadder asked the dragoness, who wobbled slightly. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again.

"Only-," she coughed again.

_**Only superficial wounds,**_ she telepathised instead. The Nadder immediately noted "throat injury".

Ah, but they were going to meet Seven soon. She would examine the Transient.

"Your orders were to relay Seven's message that she is ready to meet us and then to leave. Why did you decide to stay and made such a basic mistake? Electric discharge disturbs your spectrum-bending field!" the Nadder growled with rising anger.

In answer, the dragoness slumped slightly.

_**I was...curious...I yield to your judgment,**_ she offered.

The Nadder sighed and used his own energy to open one of Toothless' eyes. He surveyed the pupil's reaction. He could hear the Fury's heart beating, quicker than it should, luckily without erratic pattern in the rhythm.

A small, bitter-smelling, smoking hole in one of Fury's chest scales pointed where he had been struck.

The Nadder sighed tiredly. Seven was going to complain to him again. He already felt the impending headache with a vengeance.

He bent and pushed his muzzle beneath the ebony dragon's belly and effortlessly scooped him up, tossing him on his back.

"Come," he ordered the injured dragoness, "The poor little _Engar _has an appointment for a medical check-up...," he eyed the bleeding Transient with contempt, "might as well add one extra poor, little patient."

* * *

Toothless woke up to the sounds of talk and smell of roasted meat. As he blinked once to move his eyelids and then again to clear his eyes, he realised that it was he who smelled like that.

The room was spacious enough to accommodate two dragons and a human. Or something resembling a human, anyway.

Toothless could not be fooled by appearance. Seven had the same quality to her presence as IT had.

Sensation of the void, a trait he always recognised as a blemish against life itself was nothing he would have ever forgotten.

Seven stood over the purple dragoness he recognised as the intruder. The dragoness was lying on what seemed to be a silverish table, large enough to support her whole body, from the head to the sharply-edged tail tip.

Toothless first studied Seven. Her body resembled an adult human female, clad in white clothes, covering everything except part of her pale neck and hands.

She seemed...delicate, without the over-defined Viking muscles the Fury had grown accustomed to during his residency in Berk. However, she was taller than most of the men in the human settlement, matching Hiccup's sire in height.

Her irregular, seemingly-unkept (by human standards) mane was matte-white, falling to the end of her slender neck.

She overwhelmingly smelled of blood. It dominated all other olfactory sensations emanating from her. She did smell as a human female should yet, beneath those scents was the blood scent, mixing together into something entirely alien.

Dragons relied heavily on their sense of smell, even more so than on sight. It proved most useful when meeting somebody for the first time. It could help determine a stranger's health status, gender, terrain they are most accustomed to and- sometimes-sexual attraction. That was just a fraction of what a dragon could read from one's scent.

The dragoness interrupted his pondering as she moved off the metallic surface. The places where his talons had cut her skin were now ornamented with pieces of metal holding the areas of the hide voided of scales together.

He noted with great satisfaction that she grunted in pain as her front paws touched the floor. Her black pupils shifted to him briefly and slid over his body, stopping at his wings. Her eyes narrowed and then she looked ahead, not sparing him any more attention.

Toothless resisted, spreading his wings fully at that obvious evaluation.

From that subtle body language, Toothless knew he was looked upon then as a potential enemy or, possibly, as a potential mate since it was the female who surveyed him.

Since Seven had appeared to help her, Toothless was not about to start chasing the purple dragoness. He looked ahead once she disappeared from the view behind one of the walls.

The Guide was already in front of him, looking curiously at his body from every angle. He tried not to show that he was startled by her sudden close proximity. She could move quietly, so quietly he could not hear her steps. Her heartbeat and lung-work also escaped his hearing abilities.

"There is no reason to be afraid," Seven said in the rhythmical language of dragons, mixing it with a soothing hiss at the end as if he were a hatchling.

"I'm not a youngling and there is not fear in me," Toothless spat with more force than he wanted.

On the contrary, he felt fright as he now clearly could see her eyes. They were a deep shade of the purest crimson, unflinching, and he immediately decided that he hated them.

Doubly so, as IT had held the same quality in his eyes.

At the memory of the six-eyed monstrosity, he growled deeply before he could stop. At once, he curled into a submissive position. He had just threatened his Guide and, whatever he though, he could not disrespect the strongest one in this hierarchy.

"Rise, drake. I can't see your body properly like this," Seven said, waving her hand the same way the Fury had noticed Hiccup sometimes did to show that he did not particularly concern himself with something.

The Fury did as he was told immediately. He focused his gaze at a small crack in the wall and kept it there. He attempted to have a blank mind, not to imagine the creature standing next to him gave him the same sensation his tormentor had given him.

He had learned back then that, even though that the source of his fear had disappeared, the fear itself did not. He still felt ashamed for that felling.

With IT's death. all his emotional shortcomings should have disappeared. At least, that is how he always thought it would be.

His stare did not remain on one spot. He tried to take a look at what was being done to him. Was she merely looking or was she going to touch him? Toothless' breathing deepened and came out as short, strong huffs through the nose. His pupils shrank into two thin cuts in the toxic green of his eyes.

Her hands were hovering by his skin, he was sure of it. She teased him with uncertainty, ordering him to be still so she could make him nervous.

Her monstrous claws were ready to pierce him with ease and he was defenceless. Why was he obeying? Death would claim him if he did not move, try to do something. Anything. He would not be touched. No touching. No. Claw piercing him. No sound of broken bones. No sensation of his lungs filling with his own blood. No touching. She _had_ to stay away! She was too close. She would kill him.

Unless he attacked first.

The sensation of being touched flared through his skin as if he was stabbed. He spun with unnatural fluidity, every movement without thought behind it. His talons curled into a murderous instrument stoppe, preparing to slash through Seven's neck and spine. He did not want to stop his attack; the thought did not cross his mind even once.

And yet, his paw with the entire weight of his body behind it halted, held at its base by a delicate-looking hand.

The white-haired woman was lowered on her legs, stabilising her posture on them. She met Toothless' fright-stricken eyes before looking at the claws by her face which would have, undoubtedly, sliced through her without her intervention.

The Fury did not attempt to overpower the Guide. He barely noticed when the hand let go of his front leg. His mind was far away from the events. Seven, noticing it, huffed lightly and raised her hand in front of the dragon's muzzle.

Then she swatted his nose.

"Bad dragon," she scolded without much force in her voice, considering she had just almost been decapitated.

The blow and the absurd comment were enough to turn the Fury into a temporarily whimpering mess and concentrate on reality.

Reality seemed very painful at that moment.

As Toothless recovered after being unceremoniously treated like a misbehaving pet, Seven turned her head to the wall by the entrance where the Nadder sat. He wore the most amused expression a horned, sharp-fanged drake could possibly muster.

Seven raised an eyebrow in a silent question. The resting creature shrugged. it was the best way a being without typical arms could.

Seven turned back to her patient and, by the time she did, the black beast feared by most of Berk's population now crouched low on his belly. He appeared uncertain whether to break into submission and beg for his life to be spared after attacking the Nest's highest in hierarchy or simply to run away.

His eyes darted across the room, looking for an exit. That was obstructed now by the Nadder, who stood in the middle of the passage, more bored than threatening.

"Why did you attack me?" Seven asked, getting to the first point where she felt needed at least a brief explanation.

Toothless answered very quietly for a usually confident dragon," You...b... touched me," he explained. It was not the best of reasons to kill somebody, he realised. But it had made perfect sense in his mind moments ago.

Seven looked at the Nadder again and received the same shrug-included non-verbal response.

She had not touched him. Her hand had not even been close to the scaled skin.

The white-haired woman smoothed the tip of her always-immaculate eyebrow. Psychological trauma. Touch modality misperception.

She could work with that. She knew the source of the dark dragon's distress. It usually made those able to sense Tagma wary, sometimes even afraid.

Still, such strong reaction was not expected. Not expected, although the possibility did exist.

The Fury decided to curl in fear, not giving any justification of his action to Seven.

"Follow me," she said and started walking to the part of room which ended with a wall. A low, large pedestal rested in the middle.

Toothless obeyed, not wanting to summon any more wrath upon him. He received none so far and he wanted for it to stay in this way.

"The First-Speaker spoke very highly of you," she said conversationally.

_That _statement certainly caught the Fury by surprise.

If anything, he was treated by the Nadder as a piece of rock he could use to sharpen his claws on.

"He informed me that you are capable of healing yourself in quite a fascinating way. May you tell me exactly how you do it?" Seven asked, moving to the side of the wall with various protrusions on it. She quickly pressed something on it.

Four narrow pillars started ascending by the pedestal's edges and then stopped with a loud metallic grinding sound, and a few sparks shot from the panel Seven was closest to.

The Nadder chuckled deeply.

"Well, it _is _quite old," Seven said, unperturbed at the mechanical glitch. She turned to Toothless, as he wore a look of confusion and shock on his muzzle

"Please, tell me about that healing technique. I will listen while working," she prompted the dragon to talk and, with a not-so-gentle tug, she ripped part of the wall off, revealing a thicket of lines and other items beneath. She chucked it on the ground with a metallic clang.

Toothless started talking, mostly to take his mind off the bizarreness of the current situation.

He discussed projecting the image of his body in his mind and identifying each cell type by the different aura it had. Seven seemed to listen avidly, and she asked questions from time to time. At the question of how he learned it, he answered after a moment of silence.

"IT taught me."

Seven did not query further. She was then by the pillars, grabbing each of them and pulling them slowly to their full height, which was half-way to the ceiling. As Toothless looked as her delicate arms easily moving the columns, he had to remind himself again how Seven's looks could deceive.

"The First-Speaker also mentioned that you claim to have experienced –ghh-," she groaned as the last of the device elements put more resistance in being pulled than the rest, "having your chest crushed," she asked, not turning from the labour.

"Yes," Toothless confirmed, mindful of the unnatural resemblance the Guide's aura had to IT's.

"Interesting," Seven stated," Lie here," she said, pointing in the middle of the low stand. He sluggishly strode forward, uncertain of his life expectancy.

He thought of Hiccup and hoped that whatever would happen here was meant to help him. Heal him from whatever defects he suffered, he reminded himself. This was a reason why he did not ask any question or refuse to comply with instructions given.

He had to obey his new Guide; it was an instinct deeply rooted into his sub-consciousness. IT had been his Guide before and why he had been so obedient towards anything.

"Lie flat on your belly," the instruction came, and he complied. As he breathed, a wave of air blew some of the powdery dust from the pedestal.

" Limbs outstretched," Seven continued her instruction.

She explained calmly how he had to position his legs and curl his tail, as it was too long and would not be held in the "image". It took a while to adjust Toothless properly; however, during that time the woman only spoke. She never attempted to touch him.

When the immobilised Fury's irritation was almost at equal level with his anxiety, Seven spoke, stepping away him.

"That will suffice. You can breathe easy, but do not move or we will have to repeat the process."

Toothless did not see her anymore, his jaw held firmly on the dusty surface. He did not hear her steps, just as before. All he had to do now was to wait. He started relaxing a bit when a patter of claws against the stone approached him.

"I'm curious, myself," the Nadder said out of the line of his vision, "I noticed that you were able to perceive the Transient before attacking her. How were you able to do that?"

"My nose tingled", Toothless hissed an extensive explanation through clenched jaws, afraid to stir up his position.

"Is that so? I do not know why... spare me a heartbeat," the Nadder fell silent for exactly that long before he said, "Who would have thought? Your species must have rudimentary electroreceptors in their nose's mucosa. How does the sensation feel? Do you feel a _tingle_ when a storm passes nearby?" The Nadder queried, interested.

"Only when lightning strikes nearby," Toothless grumbled. He was not very curious regarding factoids about his body. He just wanted for his treatment to end and to be released from this unnatural place. He really hated such closed spaces.

"Let me see!" The Nadder's chirpy and enthusiastic tone resounded as he stepped right before the Fury's muzzle.

"See what?" Toothless asked, annoyed.

"Your nose!" The dignified Master said happily, as if that were the most obvious thing in existence.

It took a moment for the younger beast to absorb and understand the meaning behind the joyous statement. His comprehension accelerated as the Nadder's snout lowered towards his with his tongue hanging out from between his jaws in either inquisitiveness or partial insanity.

"I'm _not_ letting you look up my nose!" Toothless growled, recoiling to almost fully stand.

At the same moment Seven entered the room again. She focused on a small image above her palm, now clad in some sort of a glove, tapping the metallic surface on her forearm with furious speed. She looked ahead and immediately spotted what the two drakes were doing.

Toothless tried to pull away, the supposedly older and more dignified of the two pressing his eyes to the Fury's dark muzzle.

Seeing Seven, the Nadder pulled away, stepping calmly to the woman and flashing her a wide grin.

She had the most deadpan expression Toothless had ever seen, and that was saying something, considering Hiccup had quite his share of them.

The Guide approached the Night Fury. The tail-crippled drake could have sworn that her eye twitched lightly as she said, "Come, I need to position you again for the procedure."

Toothless growled accompanied by a draconic laughter coming from a far-away part of the room.

* * *

Seven's fingers traced the wall slowly. She felt something beneath a thin layer of calcite which had managed to form since the place had last been used. She broke the crusty barrier with a few light hits with her knuckles, revealing two small holes beneath. She pulled her fingers inside and struggled for a moment with the opening mechanism. If possible, she did not want to destroy any more of equipment. The panel clicked, and she opened it outward.

Toothless lay as before in the recommended body posture, resigned to his fate as a motionless dummy.

Seven's hand plunged into shadowed bellows of the gaping opening in the wall and, with practiced moves, she wired out a thin cable. She was worried that it might be broken, like most in the facility. Or that the insulation cover might be flawed. The needle-like ending of the cord found the fitted slot beneath her wrist in the device she wore. With a quick twist of the plug, the VPM on her PSCMD lighted up, and the small rectangular screen now hovered above her hand.

Now she had to wait for the start-up procedure to end. Her Portable Scanning and Computing Multipurpose Device (A Medical Issue version with her own light modifications) was certainly a marvel of technology and her own personal favourite. She noticed a slight discolouring in the image. Her Volumetric Projection Module was serving faithfully as hologram-displaying device although, as with almost all things, it had aged. Seven made a quick note in her memory bank to change the device's lenses in the near future.

The hovering image changed to a bright white. Finally, the HUI was active. She tapped the buttons on her forearm in a memorized sequences, accessing through the Holographic User Interface to the diagnostic programme and started it.

And, now, more waiting.

She saw a shadow casted above her. She shifted the holographic screen closer to her body and the shadow shifted again. Seven hid the image again and felt a weight on her shoulder as the Nadder leaned his neck and rested his head next to her.

_**Are you still angry about the little prank I played on Engar? **_The dragon telepathised instead of using his voice for the sake of privacy.

Seven was not mad, far from it. She was merely annoyed. She had rightful reasons to feel this way. She had recently survived an attempt on her life in her own facility by warriors using technology and arts she had thought were locked away. As she recalled the rest of her journey, she realized that was least of her worries.

The Nadder did not ask any questions, as always content with her presence and a lot of space to fly about. Seven was content with his trust and the touch they shared. She did not let know how much she needed that, all her worries and feelings disappearing instantly. Her head leaned to the scaled muzzle and she observed the screen. In a rare moment of stillness, she let her mind wander nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

The serene moment of companionship was disturbed as the hologram altered into simple, blue and white schematics of a power grid. Still resting her head on her companion, she rerouted the power from destroyed or inaccessible components with her usual efficiency.

_**You want to look at the scanning chart? I was not aware you could interpret that.**_ Seven asked the Nadder as she finished the procedure.

It would work. How fortunate for her. She could examine the Fury with her PSCMD, although it would be done as the last resort. The scanner they were about to use had much higher capabilities.

_**Akil will translate it for me,**_ Aeon stated smugly.

_**You shouldn't depend on him so much,**_ Seven chastised, looking at Toothless' motionless form.

She now addressed the dark dragon.

"We are about to begin the procedure. Keep motionless until told otherwise. You might feel a light vibration on your skin. Do not be alarmed. If you feel any discomfort, report it immediately. Are you ready, Toothless?" She asked, voicing his name in Norse to make him more comfortable.

She got an affirmative grunt, the Fury's eyes darting around in fear. Seven was amazed at the drake's composure. His past was mostly shrouded in mystery for her, although she could easily deduce a couple of things, most of which she would keep to herself. It was clear that "Toothless" had seen and experienced a lot in his life.

Aeon had reported everything Hiccup had shared in his conversation in the Ring during one of the boy's nightly voyages. The the human revealed he did not know much about his friend's past. Whatever had happened in his Nest, the Stronghold of the Old Sea remained for Toothless to share. Still, it was imperative for her to know what exactly had happened between IT and Toothless in his younger years. This scan would probably disclose some of the information she desired.

_**You should restore Akil's ability to talk to you, not only to respond telepathically to your commands,**_ Seven hinted, not for the first time. She struck a few buttons lightly, starting the device and switching to haptic control (one utilising the motions of fingers to control the device). The low, white noise of a steady hum, barely audible even to dragon ears, filled the space.

_**Akil is more irritating than a pack of Little Courages with a nest of hornets stuffed behind their tails,**_ Aeon answered, not for the first time, _**Besides, Akil is just a tool, a simulation. **_

Seven did not answer to that. Both of them focused on the small image. The hazy and indistinct outline of the resting Fury appeared, slowly going into focus. With a few movements of Seven's fingers, the screen changed from two-dimensional to three, leaving a miniature silhouetted representation of Toothless now made of semi-transparent lines of white.

The image cleared, sketching deeper and deeper into the dragon's body. Optical coherence was still far from the detail Seven desired, although it seemed sufficient for its current purpose. The primary routine completed, she enlarged and locked the image on Toothless' head, studying each part carefully. She checked once, then twice.

Aeon was first to communicate his thoughts, _**Akil just informed me there should be a post-stroke scar tissue...why there is none?**_

Seven was silent, thinking of different options.

"Toothless, did you attempt at any time self-healing damage done to your brain?" She asked her patient.

She received a negative grunt.

"Do you still claim your story in which you inflicted damage to yourself to preserve your Scalgertar's life as true?" Seven queried, sounding as methodical as the device she was using.

Toothless' body tensed at the sudden change of tone.

"Don't be alarmed. Don't move. Please answer the question."

A positive response.

_**Aeon, have today's tests changed your judgment about Toothless' Tagma usage ability? Is it possible for him to achieve in-depth cellular manipulation? **_Seven asked, her fingers moving in a blur as she analyzed each segment of the left hemisphere.

The Nadder turned his only visible eyeball at her and narrowed it.

_**My opinion is sustained. It shouldn't be possible. However, he is not lying. He might be capable of twisting the truth, as he did with Hiccup. He would not have withheld such vital information! Especially...,**_ he huffed with irritation, not breaking the contact between him and Seven,_** especially if it would concern getting stronger for the sake of his human's safety. **_

The red-eyed woman's fingers stopped working. There was almost no sign of damage to any of Toothless' brain parts. It almost seemed as if she found a few spots with higher tissue density. It could have been a sign of an old injury or a natural anomaly. If only she had more powerful equipment, she would have analysed each cell individually and determine the real cause of such a miraculous recovery. The most probable explanation was that Toothless had imagined the severity of the damage or even the whole injury.

_**You should enjoy the turn of events,**_ Aeon sounded almost chastising. As before, Seven noticed with amusement her companion's interest in the Fury,_** him being healed means one less problem to deal with.**_

She agreed. For him, one less problem meant one less thing to think about. Once something was not an issue anymore, it was discarded from his mind. For her, it entailed finding an explanation of why the problem had disappeared.

_**Very well**_, she allegedly agreed with the Nadder only for the sake of efficiency. Time was at an essence. Nobody knew how much longer Toothless would withstand the examination and how much longer the equipment would work without blowing up,_** let's take a look at his heart then. He described his chest being crushed by an enormous claw and then dying..**_

The pause spoke volumes about her opinion on her test subject's credibility. The Nadder chose not to comment on it, instead he glued his stare to the hologram, waiting for another part of the show. The three-dimensional image slid lower to the dragon's chest.

_**Look! **_The Nadder exclaimed happily as he looked at the projection,_** See those white things beneath his skin? That's quite a collection of debris...is that a fang there? It is! Two of those in fact! And there is a piece of wood! **_He continued his happy ramblings, his tail waggling gently, until he noticed that Seven kept staring at different element of the chest with eyes absent of emotions. He sobered immediately.

_**What is it?**_ Aeon asked.

_**Look at the ribcage. Ask Akil to compare it to the standard bone structure of his species**_, Seven explained with a serene voice. The Nadder had learned to discern between her usual calm tone and a very similar-sounding one she used when blocking all emotions. Without hesitation, he did as he was told. Almost instantly, his mind flooded with new information.

_**Tell me what is the most distinctive about what you see. I don't need a full report**_, Seven stated before he would start describing exactly what she did not want.

_**Part of his fourth chest rib is missing...it is not because he was born without one...it was removed**_, the Nadder telepathised. The sign of an empty place where a bone should connect to the sternum seemed obvious. Akil provided him with anther fragment of analysis. Some of the bone structure was denser than others. The whiter dots were spotting bones in what appeared a sporadic pattern. All of those spots were places where the bone healed. Some had small protrusions on them or cavities.

_**Akil, are the anomalies on the ribs pathological? **_Aeon asked.

An immediate response materialised as his own thought: Ninety six point eight probability of anomalies being of natural origin. Genetic makeup analysis recommended for further diagnosis.

Except it was clear that they were not of natural origin. They appeared to be as if they had been created, purposefully. Almost as if they were mistakes in self-healing. Very advanced self-healing, including cellular manipulation. In simplest terms, it enabled the user to change his body into his own playground. A full mastery over one's body. The highest form of internal Tagma usage. 'Full' level of ability, as Toothless had described it.

_**It is impossible,**_ the Nadder concluded, even though the answer was right before his eyes. No, there was no time for cognitive dissonance. He heaved through his nose as he used another technical term Seven was so fond of. Her ways were rubbing off on him too much.

_**What else do you see?**_ Seven asked him in her usual game of I-know-it-already-now-you-use-your-brain-and-think. She twisted the image to the front of the sternum, behind a heart beat slowly and steadily. The Nadder tensed before offering the most disturbing piece of revelations.

_**His heart-**_

_**Not yet!**_ Seven stopped him as if he had missed an important step. He sighed. Everything had to go according to her plan. Always.

He looked at a skin's dissection fragment, the white, irregular, thin web-like halo the scar tissue formed. It told the story clearly.

_**Something impaled the Fury's chest. Something big. It penetrated at a shallow angle farther than his... heart?**_ The Nadder did not want to end it as question, but it came out as this on its own.

With an uncatchable move of a finger, the image moved behind the sternum and ribcage to the beating source of the Nadder's confusion. He was not by any means knowledgeable when it came to medicine although, with Akil's help, there was practically nothing he would not be able to understand.

Now as he looked at the circular organ, he wondered how he had not noticed the evident. Whatever it was, this was not a dragon's heart. It was almost spherical, and the shape maintained as half of it beat, squeezing the blood out or in, followed rapidly by the other half of the so-called _heart_ mimicking the movement symmetrically. The whole shape appeared to be made of pure white. It indicated that the scanner for some reason could not penetrate the organ's walls. Which was up until that moment impossible, as there was not biological structure that machinery could not look into.

The Nadder quickly silenced Akil as the only information he was receiving now was unknown or unidentifiable. He quickly turned to his first best source of information in the whole universe.

_**It's a heart, isn't it?**_ He asked Seven.

_**Its function and mechanics appear to resemble one**_, the red-eyed humanoid agreed.

_**And it's not a dragon's heart? **_The Nadder queried, hoping it was merely an illness, an unique case.

_**It is not**_, she agreed. It was very unique case indeed. The confused dragon's eye turned from the hologram to the Keeper's face. She had the answer, and he knew he would not like it.

_**What is it, then?**_ The First-Speaker queried.

_**What is it? We have established it is a heart**_, Seven telepathised calmly, her left hand tapping the controls on the forearm, _**it's a type I've seen before, and it belongs to a second-born type of organism**_

The Nadder's mind froze for a moment, concentrated on the pulsating bulb, blindingly white against the indistinctive surroundings. He had heard the name before. He had even seen two of them. One of them not so long ago. The six-eyed enormous creature the Vikings named as the Red Death and Toothless as IT was one of them. Was. There were no more of them left, all except IT dying from unknown disease that consumed them.

There were too many questions on the Nadder's mind. Before he was able to ask Akil for his analysis, he saw Seven tapping controls on her forearm. He decided to wait for what the woman would do. The Master could not identify the procedure his companion was implementing; however, his thoughts were soon answered as the image of Toothless soared outwards from the image of his chest and showed his whole body. Seven pressed a button and red areas started appearing inside the Fury. The crimson pools grew inside the ebony dragon's brain as a flood. The scanner continued marking the alien fragments.

The Nadder's pupils narrowed in shock as the scarlet materialised along the whole length of spine branching out of it to mark the whole heart, andthat still was not the end of it. The machine, unresponsive to the emotions Aeon felt, finished its work efficiently, signalling the work done with a slowly flashing message at the top of the projection.

_Scan number 124 completed successfully. Malignant items detected. Unable to identify. Scan repetition indicated. _

No one paid attention to it. Seven and the Nadder instead observed the inner construct within Toothless. All his body had markings of red in it. It branched deep within every part of the body, twisting and penetrating all of the organs.

_**Observe this**_, Seven commanded. She twisted her fingers and the image enlarged suddenly to it limits, showing a tip of the reddish nerve-like structure in the left front leg. The observant dragon's eyes caught immediately that the tip was not static. It was very slowly sliding forward between the muscles. The structure was growing.

Without waiting for his comment, Seven rapidly tapped the console on her forearm.

_Safety codes recognised. Containment procedure initiated. Ensure the vacation of the scanning area. Nonparticulate collector charging. _

_**Seven what-**_, Aeon begun to ask mentally. The cable rolled out of the panel as the white-haired woman stepped away from him, walking rapidly to the unmoving dragon.

Toothless was unmindful of the happenings. he did not react, trying to obey Guide's instruction to stay put as the wall of...something materialised between the pillars like a thick layer of glass. He remembered IT had used to create similar creations. However, he reacted violently as he felt something outside the field using Tagma in a way he once more IT using. Something was about to make something appear, and there was only one thing he thought was able to do that.

Seven opened her palm expectantly and, above it, a metal plate appeared quickly. As fast as it happened, more metal fragments materialised. Chaotic at first, as more fragments appeared they connected seamlessly and with the final piece in place, the device dropped gently into Seven's grasp. It resembled a thin pen with a very sharp and narrow tip and a small phial filled with a transparent, bluish liquid.

She appeared stoic as behind the force field its inhabitant started thrashing and fighting futiley against the bonds.

_Charging complete._

Seven pressed a single button.

With a high pitched whine, the transparent shield turned to white for a rapid moment as the energy inside burst open. The amount was programmed to stun, not to kill. The forcefield dropped after a quick command, exposing the unmoving Night Fury. The toxic-green eyes were empty, mouth slightly open, wings unfurled with legs bent in an awkward position. His front paw flexed instinctively as if trying to get a hold of the ground.

Seven silently commended him for still being able to move. Without taking any chances, the Keeper closed the gap between her and Toothless and, with a quick motion, stabbed the injector into the short, dark neck. The liquid emptied from the vial. The grey-tipped claws flexed one last time, and the body stopped moving completely.

Seven levitated the injector above her hand where it disappeared, piece by piece. As the last part ceased to exist, the cables lay on the floor, disconnected from the gauntlet-device. Without a motion from the white-clad woman, the Fury's body silently levitated upwards and followed her as she started leaving the room.

_**What is the reason of your actions?**_ Aeon asked, observing with carefulness Seven's proceedings. As if the human-shaped being waited for him to project his thoughts, she turned to him and he noticed the faintest of smiles on her face.

_**Come. We need to prepare the subject for further testing. Also...**_ she reassumed her fluid gait,_** start bringing Hiccup at night. It is unfortunate; however, we must include him sooner than I anticipated. On the bright side, he is going to get his leg back sooner as well**_

Nothing else was exchanged as the duo disappeared into bellows of the corridor, as silent as the dark body levitating in tow.

* * *

Hiccup semi-sat in bed in the only position he considered comfortable after losing a leg. He was afraid that he would never again enjoy such a simple thing as a sitting without feeling pain flaring in his leg. He could accept many things. Deep inside, he was proud of his ability to adapt and consider new options and invent solutions. It had been such a blind chase for him, his long ago plan to kill a dragon by any means necessary, without care about the village, others or himself. Then his reality had clashed with Toothless, waking Hiccup to a new reality and possibilities. If not for Toothless, he would still be trying his pathetic attempt to kill a dragon, living in an illusion he created for himself, all to win affection of his only living parent and to punish himself for forgetting his mother.

He embraced the possibility to the best of his abilities as he listened to very simplified story Seven presented about Toothless, empathically staring at the spot on the wall. At this point he would have accepted any explanation, anything to make his mind more at ease. The story seemed so ridiculous, so bizarre that in some weird way it seemed scarily real.

His eyes, with dark bags beneath, slid slowly to Seven's face as Hiccup comprehended that the tale was done. Now it was his turn to...do something. The boy was not sure what to feel. He _was _certain what questions to ask.

"Why do you have to keep Toothless here? Why did you have to put him here against his will? You abducted him. Lured him with the possibility of healing and simply took advantage of it," Hiccup said, anger slipping through his indifference. At least, he was still capable of experiencing some emotions.

Seven made a diplomatic pause," Do you know what the Red Death is?" She asked calmly with the patience as a mother explaining the basics of the world to a child. Seeing the brief confusion on the teen's face, she elaborated," Would you consider the Red Death as a good entity?"

Hiccup narrowed his eyes. He did not enjoy these questions which were merely guiding to an obvious answer. In this case, logic told him to say "no" and then he would probably be presented with reasons to believe the explanation.

"Would you stop doing that?" He asked sedately.

"I am not sure what you are talking about," Seven retorted.

"No, I believe you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. You pretend to be good and helpful while you do things anyone with a shred of morality would reject. Now when something happens you cannot control, you try another approach," Hiccup explained patiently. Like a father presenting a truth about reality to his child, " You keep Toothless here against his will. Me, as well. You pretended to be what I wanted you to be. Choosing the most...persuasive method, blending dream with reality. You knew very well how to control me and my environment. Keeping me under constant observation and that glass trick?"

He pointed at the table with mentioned container," There was no reason to show off like that! You wanted me to see this and know that you are in control. That whatever I do, you are the one in charge. You wanted me to be afraid. If your goals would be as humane as you present them to be, Toothless would be free and I would not be here in Odin-knows-where having this conversation!"

He raised his voice,which echoed sharply. It was the first time his voice had done since they had met, Seven realized.

What's the real reason I am here? I want the truth!" The boy shouted, a hint of desperation creeping into the tone. He then started coughing, overextending his vocal abilities.

The woman waited for the fit to cease along with the wheezing panting that followed. Then Seven clapped lightly with an appreciative nod.

"Very well done, Hiccup," she smiled, for the first time showing genuine emotions. Quickly, she stood up from the stool and took the water glass and offered it manually to Hiccup," Drink it all up. It will help with the sore throat," she explained, smile not leaving her face as the youth obliged.

"There is not only water in it, isn't it?" He asked as he finished his drink and returned the glass to the waiting hand.

Seven beamed," I've added a few things that would help with your current...condition. No need to introduce terminology you would not understand. For now, that is," she explained in a kind tone," Now," she grasped his full attention with that one, sterner-sounding word," regarding what I am and what I know, I cannot give you the truth. However, I can give you information you will be able to comprehend."

She sat at the edge of the bed next to the boy and looked at him with unmistakable kindness and fondness. Involuntarily, Hiccup blushed. Why would she suddenly change her approach from indifference to something more life-like?

"You must be wondering why I appear more animatedly emotional now. My emotionless demeanour was necessary towards your objective psychological evaluation. Any grimace I would've performed might've prompted an emotional response from you. I wanted to avoid that. That's not what you want to hear, though," she let the glass go from her hand and it levitated to the table without her looking at it.

"Show me your hand," Seven asked, outstretching hers. Hiccup hesitated before opening the right palm," The one you coughed in," she explained calmly.

The tired youth squeezed his left palm a few times as if making sure of what was hidden in there before putting the closed fist onto Seven's waiting one. As he opened it slowly, she squeezed it gently in a gesture of assurance and connection. Both youth and woman had very pale skin, and the tiny red droplets of blood on the boy's hand contrasted strongly against it.

"The truth is that you are very, very unwell," Seven said, consolingly.

"I'm dying," Hiccup corrected emotionlessly.

"Yes, you are dying if you want to be dramatic about it," she kept looking at his resigned face and held his blood-sprinkled palm more firmly," except you're not. When it comes to important things, to your closest friend, there is still a strong fire in your eyes. The unstoppable determination ready to explode and fill your very being. Such a sudden change from your typical attitude. I've observed you for a short while, and I can already tell as much. No wonder others are ready to follow you," she stated.

Hiccup stayed silent.

Seven still held his hand," Toothless did his best to heal you. Opened an old wound on your back and removed the infected puss from it. The inflammation was stopped...for some time. Your body had been fighting an infection for a very long time, Hiccup. Before your friend intervened, your state was in equilibrium. The infection would not take over your body and you would not win over it either."

Hiccup listened, not interrupting, even though he was not particularly interested in it. He wanted to hear about Toothless. They would get there, eventually, he thought.

"The area near your right lung is, in fact, hollow. You have a hole at the size of a fist there. Due to the cavity's localisation, your body could not repair it or destroy the infection permanently. The muscle tissue around that pocket was simply devoured by the illness until it started leaking into your lung, affecting your breathing. Among its more visible effects are chronic fevers, lost of breath, migraines, low body weight, loss of muscle tissue, coughing fits with visible blood in saliva and the list goes on," she explained calmly, once again simplifying things for him. He appreciated that.

" By opening the wound and cleaning it, Toothless removed the symptom, but not the cause. In short, without filling the cavity in your body, it would get infected again and this time you do not have dragon saliva to keep you healthy," Seven said, her strange eyes looking deeply into Hiccup's.

"I'm going to heal you, though, and this time it will be permanent...which leads to me answer a question on my own. During your travel towards the place where you saw Toothless held do you remember seeing a glass pane in one of the corridors?" She asked.

Hiccup nodded slightly, not wincing at the memory.

"Do you remember looking through it and seeing what was inside?"

He hesitated and nodded. And then comprehension dawned on him.

"You can't possibly mean," he started, shocked, yet leaving the hand in Seven's grasp.

Her gentle smile encouraged him to continue," That piece of leg...it was my leg? But-but how-?"

"Explaining details of the procedure would only leave you confused...trust me," Seven said, letting go of his hand," You will finally be as healthy as anyone else, Hiccup. I hope that makes you happy."

The boy's brows furrowed in scrutiny," I don't care what happens to me. All I care about now is what is happening to Toothless."

Seven again smiled gently, completely unperturbed by the young man's words," You don't care about anything else, yet you would not wipe your blood-stained hand in the sheets or your bed clothes, not wanting to soil anything which is not yours," she noticed.

Even though her voice was anything but mocking, Hiccup pulled his arm back. He did not have time to complete the gesture, as the woman caught his half-raised hand and rubbed it firmly against her long sleeve.

"Let's not waste a perfect sheet or your clothes. One more stain on mine won't make a difference," the woman said sweetly. The small speck of red on her sleeve was the sole blotch on her impeccably-clean garment.

"You still didn't explain much about Toothless," Hiccup said, as neutrally as he could.

"Oh I was going to, but your last question was 'why am I here?' I can't explain everything at once," she said pleasantly.

Hiccup was not sure if he was being mocked or if his hostess was serious.

"Here's what you need to know about your friend's condition," her voice took a more serious edge even though it still sounded serene," the entity you named the Red Death did something to Toothless. What, exactly, is known only to the Night Fury. I had to put his body into suspension to prevent his condition from deteriorating. As much as I would like you to go and see him, you cannot get anywhere near your familiar. The reason for it should be known to you, should it not, Hiccup?" She asked, looking into the boy's eyes.

She never kept her gaze away. It was clear she was not afraid of eye contact despite her alien-looking eyes.

She spoke again, "What caused you to wake up few hours ago was something we simply call a Signal. I'm sure you've felt it before. A distinct presence some emanate. To describe it best, it's like a soft touch without contact."

Hiccup knew what she was talking about and what she aimed for. He would agree with her in the end, not because he did not have a choice, only because he knew she was right.

"Earlier you felt your friend's Signal and you rushed to meet him. It was calling you, asking you to come closer without words. And you followed. Who wouldn't after being worried sick about his missing companion?" Seven said emphatically," However, in all the joy and blindness of happiness you could tell that there was something fundamentally wrong with what you were sensing. Something unknown and terrifying."

She did not guide him anymore or asked questions to bring him to his own conclusions, as she did not need to anymore.

She now found compliance in Hiccup's growingly fearful eyes. She realized that, even though he was a mere human, he had beautiful, illuminating eyes.

"Right now you do not feel the Signal because I am shielding you from its effects. Would you like me to demonstrate it?" She asked.

The boy's chest deflated as he exhaled and his head hung down and he nodded. He was not certain why he did. She would be right.

Then he felt it. Toothless was out there, again! A presence beckoning. His head started pounding again; however, he did not mind. The pain was lighter than the skull-cracking pressure. The Signal was less tainted. Tainted, his mind echoed. He did not mind. He _ha_d to get closer!

"Hiccup?" Somebody asked, and he stared at his outstretched hand as if he was trying to grasp something. The pain mixed with ecstatic joy was slowly leaving his exhausted system. He did not remember moving. There was only a feeble sensation parting its ways with his memory, one he would not be able to recall later as he lay alone in his bed. Some things left an imprint of existence only by experiencing them.

"Yes. I feel it," he confirmed, not getting into minute details. It fact, he did not want to get into any details at all or to continue this conversation. He wanted to sleep, disappear for some time and let the events organise themselves in his head. It was too much.

"Is there anything I can do to help Toothless?" He asked hoarsely.

Seven smiled fondly," Even after going through so much, your priorities stand unyielding. It's an admirable attribute, never forget that," she put her pale hand on the boy's check gently," There's something you can do. There is _always_ something anyone can do," she paused, seemingly without any reason, simply looking into his deep green eyes.

She removed her warm palm slowly," The answer to your friend's past is in his mind, and nobody could access his memories. Nobody... except you," she said and the one-legged teen's heart immediately started beating faster, with hope.

"Your connection with the Night Fury is special. With a bit of training and supervision, you will be able to access those memories and, hopefully, gain enough information to help your friend."

Hiccup's eyes sparkled with happiness, everything else momentarily forgotten.

" However, for now, you need your rest," with motion-escaping eyes, she put her finger on Hiccup's opened mouth, stopping whatever he wanted to say," Small steps, Hiccup. Small steps," she smiled again, once more honestly and naturally.

"May you be protected from harm," the golden-haired woman said as a farewell.

"I will see you around... I guess," Hiccup spoke.

His last memory from that meeting was that, suddenly, the woman's eyes changed their colour to red and she winked to him.

He was not surprised and did not put a lot of thought into that.

He just was so glad there was a way to help Toothless, one in which he could contribute. Nothing else, not Seven, the village, regaining memory of his mother or his relation with father was more important at that time.

He had his priorities straight.

* * *

**AN: A bit different notes from moi this time. As I consider the last chapter a success I am going to keep using the writing style I used there (if you can't spot the difference, trust me, there is). Last chapter was my first attempt at psychological triller, make the reader doubt what he reads and have difficulities distinguishing between reality and a "dream". I like psychology so expect at least a few more moments like i nthe previous chapter. Another thing I am aiming to stress in the series in the continuity of character's decisions. For example, Toothless healed Hiccup. At least it is what it appeared to be. The decision Toothless made, to help Hiccup with his condition was easy to read and a reader should've made this discovery in early chapters. However, I am always intrigued how our decisions in life influence those in the future. Toothless did not know at that time that by helping he might cause more damage in the future. He did not know the full extent of the boy's condition so he did what he thought would be best. He made a mistake there, but at that time it seemed to be a good choice. Whatever choices the characters will make they always might have another effect, the one they are not aware. What I aimed since beginning to make a realistic and involving story with deep, believable characters. Tagma, technology, combat etc. it's all nice and all, but my main focus will always be on characters. It is easy to deduce that Hiccup will get involved in something big and be trained in Tagma usage. It is not important to see it as I never kept it a secret, Seven and Aeon state in on several occasions. What is interesting, for me, is how characters would deal with it when the situation would arrive. Also, let's not kid ourselves here why Hiccup would follow Seven's guidelines. It is all so cool to see a badass Hiccup in some stories, him defeating all odds and being victorious...it is good for a child's fairytale. Without knowledge, preparations, allies and many other factors mending with something you have no idea about would certainly be romantic, but would get you killed. Very quickly. I want Hiccup to be smart about it, crazy sometimes, but smart. Know the situation first, analyse it, then act. He was acting like a suicidal fool before he had something more to protect than himself and I hope you can tell how much he cares about himself. **

**Until next time. Tell me your thoughts on the story. Constructive criticism is always welcome.  
**

**Fang  
**


	36. The Direction

**AN: Another chapter. A bit shorter this time. I promise next one is going to be long.**

* * *

"Hiccup! Wake up, son," the low, rich voice stirred the boy to consciousness. He turned his head slowly to the direction of the voice, already regretting leaving the fluffy and warm texture of the pillow. A mild headache hit him as he tried to sit up.

"Ya slept long today. Good," his father said, close by as the boy put a palm to his head, letting the morning blurriness of vision leave him. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, enjoying the last moment of darkness before the day began.

Seven really had not joked about side effects, tiredness and all.

_Seven. Toothless._

He sat upright, drowsiness forgotten.

"How are ya feelin today?" Stoick asked, delighted to see his offspring with so much more energy than he had been showing.

Stoick could not read emotions well, so he did not see the glint in the boy's eyes and the clenched jaw on his thin face.

Hiccup mumbled something that sounded like a confirmation and greeting in one.

An increased worry grew in Stoick's chest as he saw how his son's body had become much scrawnier than before the "accident". His ribcage clearly outlined, cheekbones visible, and he had dark spots under his eyes. At least his leg had not gotten infected during the convalescence. Not even once. The Chieftain was afraid that Thor might get bored with the miracles he had been sending their way. Stoick thus decided to sacrifice one more sheep and pray for his son to survive this hard, post-injury period.

Hiccup looked to his side and smiled, seeing the wooden cup waiting for him in Stoick's enormous hand. He accepted it with a word of thanks. A warmth hit his insides. Diluted mead. Not a bad choice to start the day, occasionally.

"Son, there's somebody here t' see ya," Stoick said after the boy had finished drinking.

Hiccup scanned the room quickly, only then noticing the tall figure sitting quietly by the dining table, with a warm smile below his trimmed moustache.

"Braedan! I did not expect you back so quickly," Hiccup said, surprised.

"_Céad míle fáilte romhat!"_ The trader greeted warmly in Gaelic, "I've heard what happened, m'boy. Let your braveness and sacrifice be praised," he nodded his head with respect.

Stoick puffed his chest to almost impossible proportions. If you happened to be in a Viking household, approving loudly of the family valour or to anything worth of glory would immediately get you on the family's good side. It was no different in Haddock house.

"Um, thank you," Hiccup answered nonchalantly. Luckily, he had avoided most of the villagers so far; however, he already did not want to experience this constant flow of compliments. Perhaps he would have if Toothless had been by his, apparently, praise-worthy side.

Breadan beamed, "To show my respect I wish to gift the hero with something special," he spoke and strolled slowly to the bed, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. With dramatic flair, he showed his empty palm and then put the other hand over it. Then he removed it, revealing a small, corked flask with a piece of parchment hanging from the top.

"Ah! Excellent trick, friend! Haven't seen ya doin' that one in a long time. Ya need t' show me how yer doin' tha' someday!" Stoick congratulated.

Braedan answered back, smile still plastered to his façade and without breaking eye-contact with Hiccup, "Alas, what's the use of a trick if its secret gets revealed? But...," a flicker of emotions different from amusement shone in his eyes, "perhaps Hiccup would be able to tell you what I did there. I think you can, can't you, boy?" He asked, s the mile frozen on his wrinkled face.

Hiccup swallowed dryly, his pupils wavering before resting on the parchment fragment.

"I-I think I must've missed it," he said as confidently as he could.

"Ah, such a shame!" Braedan said theatrically, "well, nevertheless, here you go, Hiccup! This potion is rumoured to bring your strength back. I hope you'll find it useful."

The merchant held the glass container closer to the boy, who took it with a shaking hand and a fake smile.

"My dearest host," Braedan turned to Stoick, "There is something I would like to discuss with Hiccup. Privately, if possible. I'm sure the young future chieftain wouldn't mind," he said with a genuine-looking smile as he now peered down at the bed-ridden teen.

Hiccup nodded rigidly.

Stoick smiled widely, apparently in an excellent mood that day, "Of course! Of course!" He agreed with his booming voice, "Let me not disturb ya any longer," he added jokingly as he donned his horned helmet and headed towards the door, "I will see ya soon in th' Mead Hall, Braedan. Hiccup," he turned his head towards the boy with a warm smile, "have a wonderful day".

Hiccup smiled back a bit artificially.

Then a silly thought bloomed in Stoick's mind. Was he was making a mistake somehow by leaving his son alone with the newly-arrived merchant? He quickly turned towards the door, not wanting his invitee to see a look of confusion on his face. Braedan was his honoured guest, and he would not waste his day because of ridiculous thoughts. Because that's just what they were: silly.

* * *

The door clanged loudly, and Hiccup was left with the foreign merchant.

Braedan's positive demeanour apparently also left with the Chieftain's departure. He regarded the boy with eyes about as emotional as a bare skull's.

Braedan put a hand beneath his white jacket and took out a pipe. Hiccup noticed how the mouth-piece had many bite marks on it, revealing the pink wood beneath the lustre varnish. The older man now man bit on it. Hard as the wood creaked in protest.

"Seven asked me to check on you, the very first thing to do after my arrival, she said" he said with a mixture of irritation and something darker than hatred itself, a staggering change from his usual polite and respectful tone.

Hiccup looked at the flask in the merchant's hand and read the label.

_Seven's Exhaustion Remedium_

_One Sip Daily_

_No Refunds_

Judging from Braeden's look, it appeared he and Hiccup had a common friend. Or enemy?

"Thank you for making sure I was all right," the village saviour answered politely, placing the bottle on the table by the bed making sure he did not do any sudden movements.

Braedan approached the fireplace and spotted a relatively small piece of flaming wood. He carefully took it by the opposite end and used it to light the pipe in his mouth. Then he inhaled deeply.

The boy kept silent. This was also another reason Hiccup let the man stay: the trader could use "magic", as he had demonstrated during his little conjuring trick. Naturally only Hiccup could have sensed it; his father had been oblivious to the act.

Braedan took a seat by the kitchen table and exhaled slowly, looking at the flames. Hiccup now noticed how dull his eyes appeared and how tired he seemed. From the look of it, the foreigner had not come here only to check on him.

"Seven wants us _all _to get acquainted," Braedan sucked his pipe, "Balerdargur, you may show yourself, now."

Hiccup gasped in surprise as the air glittered and a massive form materialised at the end of his bed. Having a suddenly-appearing pair of very large and very draconic eyes hovering close to his own was not encouraging. The materialised dragon was smaller than Toothless and much more... spiky.

Hiccup emitted another gasp as what he thought were spikes now flattened themselves against the creature's violet skin. Then the boy's mouth opened in amazement.

"You have a dragon!" He exclaimed.

The mentioned dragon lightly strode towards Braedan and lay down on its side, curling its slim and sharply ended tail around itself. Its raised, narrow head surveyed the bed-ridden human, unblinking.

From what the boy knew from dragon body language, the dragon was very interested in him. He shared the feeling in return. Here was one living beast he had never seen before, one not even mentioned in the Dragon Manual.

"I wouldn't say that I _have _a dragon. Her name is Balerdargur and she's something akin to a friend, a family member or even a beloved pet. It all depends on her mood, but she rarely shows one on her scaled muzzle," he said, looking at the fire. As to prove his point, the dragoness remained impassive.

"Bal-er-dar-gur...," Hiccup repeated the unfamiliar word. Remembering his manners, he showed his hand, palm down, and swirled with it in the air three times. The majestically- coloured creature's eyes widened, and she voiced something between a quiet yelp and a bark, tilting her head.

Before Hiccup had time to react, he was face-to-muzzle with the dragoness, her black pupils tracking his fingers with utmost intensity. After a few moments, the creature turned to the side as if to show her neck and held still.

"Um… what am I supposed to do now?" Hiccup asked Braedan, his view blocked by the purple dragon.

"She is deeming you worthy of scratching her neck," the trader said without a hint of sarcasm, "her wounds have healed, but her newly- grown scales itch."

Hiccup did not have time to reflect on these words as the dragoness placed her neck even closer, almost stabbing his eyes with a few up-standing scales that showed her skin beneath.

He swerved his hand between what he now realized were forked scales and started scratching the skin. It felt much softer than Toothless'. This explained the need of scale protection, then. He also noticed that the skin between the smaller scales was quite scarred, the marks appearing fresh.

That was where the Fury must've attacked!

"So, she's able to disappear and generate lightning bolts?" Hiccup asked as the dragoness purred like a cat.

"From what I was told when I was given her, her species can only create a bit of electricity as a defence. Everything else is a work of her... uh… magic. Well, that was the word Seven told me to use," he elaborated.

"I have a certain vibe it's not really called 'magic', then," Hiccup said, half-sarcastically, pointing out the obvious.

"Yes," Braedan agreed calmly, "Seven's going to handle your education and further development herself."

"Looks like my whole future is planned already. Shame nobody bothered to ask my opinion in that matter. It also reminds me that I don't even know what that future would consist of," the boy scoffed while he continued to scratch Balerdargur.

"You don't?" Braedan turned his head to him as if he had been asked to contribute. It was obvious he was not paying full attention to what Hiccup was saying.

"No. Well... Seven promised me she would teach me how to access Toothless' memories and find a cure for him," the teenaged dragon rider said.

He found himself scratching the air for a short moment before noticing that the dragoness had moved away from him. She now rested exactly in front of the fireplace and had started preening herself, nibbling the edges of her wings.

After another pause Hiccup began speaking, "Is there anything you want to talk about... because I'm really curious about many things right now. Like, how come you knew about dragons and are able to use 'magic'… and yet you never told us Berklanders anything? " he asked with exasperation.

Balerdargur raised her head to regard him for a moment, only to return to her lazy preening. Braedan looked at the fire, the tip of his pipe illuminating with an orange glow as he took a deep breath on it.

"I could've told you that I never helped your people out of the goodness of my heart," the aged man stated emotionlessly, "but truthfully, I did not and still do not care much about you or Berk. If it were only up to me, I would've never come here, sailing through these unforgiving cold waters between islands and sharp rocks. I came here because my teacher told me so."

Hiccup listened patiently and silently to the man's confession.

"When I was young, naive and full of ideas, I thought my life had a meaning. Then I learned that meanings can easily be lost. I wound up losing everything meaningful to me, and I almost died, just barely surviving the ordeal. My life was consequently rebuilt for me, and I was given a new purpose. I was given a power. Everything I needed was handed to me, but for a price... there's always a price," Braedan said darkly.

Hiccup tightened the blankets around him, feeling a shiver running through his skin as the merchant told his tale.

"That 'price' was a promise. The promise to serve a Keeper if I would be asked to do so."

The Viking boy's eyes narrowed, the glint in them making them appear no different from the one the dragoness possessed in her eyes,

"Yes, lad, Keepers. That is their name for themselves, and it is almost all I know about them beside the numbers they have as names. There's also one more important thing you need to know about them," Braedan said, almost nonchalantly.

"They never help you for free. Goodness of their heart, aid in trouble, decency, benevolence: those may _seem_ to be the Keepers' intentions. But remember once and for all, Hiccup, that for them you and I are - and will be always- a means to an end. We are just a cog in the fate Keepers weave, as one of my friends once nicely put it. Now I understand that more than ever. The promise I made years ago cost thirty-two lives of my crew," Braedan exhaled, appearing more tired than sorrowful to dwell on these details, "whatever plans Seven has for you... just remember what I said," he said and raised from the stool with a crack of his knees.

"Would you still have made the promise, even if you knew the outcome?" Hiccup's deadly serious voice stopped the trader from leaving too early.

He turned slowly and solemnly regarded the boy; for the first time he realized he no longer saw Hiccup as one of the crazy, violent and death-obsessed Vikings, a narrow-minded minion of destruction. Involuntarily, a small smile appeared on his face, adding more warmth to his looks and wrinkles.

Obviously, the young one had recently changed. He'd grown up. Instead of asking Braedan questions he would not answer, Hiccup had asked one which would set his future. Hiccup realized that he would not get out of the fate the Keeper had set up for him. Well, if you can't beat an enemy, join him.

"Yes, Hiccup. I would've done the same," he agreed.

Berk's newest hero nodded once, all hesitation gone. His future was set. Only then, did his eyes soften.

"Braedan, I'm really sorry for what happened to your crew. And thank you for sharing your wisdom with me," he put a fist to where his heart was and bowed the Berkian salute, a bit clumsily due to his bed-ridden position," it is only proper for me to now share my tale with you."

Braedan shook his head, "No need, fair Viking. I know all I need to know about you. Your deeds speak much louder about you than any words ever would," he gestured with his head to the dragoness resting by him, "Balerdargur will continue to keep you company. Seven said you need to always have somebody with you who can help you deal with your condition. I don't know what she meant by that, but it's not my place to know."

"I'm sure you understand, Hiccup," was the last thing he said before he quietly strode from the room.

Hiccup did, although that did not help him feel any better. He instead focused on feeding himself. Brooding over himself would not help his situation at all.

"You hungry?" He asked his newest draconic companion, babysitter and guard in one, holding up some of the salted and dried mackerel his father had left as usual on the bedside table, along with a plate of flat bread.

The yellowish eyes widened in curiosity and the head tilted gently. Then the dragoness snorted abruptly, and her eyes slit. She got to a crouching position and jumped gracefully to the rafter, grabbing it with her foreleg. Nimbly, she swung her body and hoisted herself, finishing with a half-somersault.

Hiccup observed intently the acrobatic display. He had not seen such agility since, well, Toothless...

He sighed nostalgically and turned his attention back to the food. He then opened Braedan's "conjured" flask and duly took his one daily sip (remembering not to expect refunds). His tiredness vanished almost instantly, and his mind cleared.

"You sure you're not hungry?" He queried the perching beast, craning his head up. As a response, the scales on the dragon's skin rose with a bony crack similar to the sound the Nadder's quills made, and, one electric buzz later, the boy was left staring at the air.

"All right then... More for me," Hiccup grumbled and got ready to attack the food. From all decisions left to him – at least the few he could control- he could still choose when to eat. He knew it was only pretence and that he had become a pawn in something he still did not understand yet.

Well, it might have been pretence but it made him feel better, even if only just a bit.

* * *

"Please come out. Nobody will hurt you," Radzik, the doctor of Braedan's crew, called softly into the darkness. He was leaning at the edge of a sizable den made out of hay and various, colourful pieces of material.

It was the resting place for the crew's only dragoness who, for some mysterious reason, loved to steal the crew's socks (the more colourful the better), shred them and stove them into her bed. She only stole the left socks. What was with that?

Even with the invisible dragoness gone, there was one other being who used this nest. One being that Radzik now tried to console and get to show herself. His comforting would have worked better had he not been doing this for a few hours straight, without any effect.

Berkian weather was as it always was this time of the year: freezing, unwelcoming and chilling. Despite the thick layer or reinforced wood that made up the ship's body, it was still quite cold in the crate-filled cargo hold where the medical practitioner was currently situated.

"Please come out," the senior repeated, for the umpteenth time. Normally his patience would have expired after the first try, followed with a long litany of curses in Polish.

However, he was dealing with a child there. A young, barely-teenaged girl, who was recovering from both physical and mental abuse. She did not deserve to see his temperamental shortcomings.

Radzik produced a small cloud of mist as he sighed. It had been far too long since he had dealt with children, and the girl proved to be everything he ever would have expected (well, more like dreaded) from a child.

She had awakened several days after Braedan had found her. Two days after she had been taken aboard, the doctor had stopped giving her drugs to sustain her unconsciousness, as her body was recovering from all the sleep deprivation of the past.

That recovering natural sleep had been a good sign for him. However, peacefulness ended when she woke up. She reacted naturally at first. The girl screamed eloquently, but there was nothing coherent which he could have recognised as a language.

She tried to fight him, very briefly though, as he pressed her thighs to stop her from kicking with her newly- recovered legs, thanks to Braedan and the amazing cures and technology he had provided.

The girl immediately had stopped her struggle, weakened by her lack of proper nourishment and mistreatment.

Then her eyes had died . Radzik saw how the certain spark in them had simply disappeared and his patient seemed no different from a shallowly-breathing corpse.

At first he had not known what he had done to earn such reaction. At least not until the girl had spread her legs open and started removing her clothes. She had done this automatically, as if this was a past reaction to threats and attacks. He had stopped her instantly.

He had tried not to touch her skin, only the fabric of the jacket she had been gifted with from the crew. He had stuttered in embarrassment, fury and hatred of his gender and how some of them had abused this child. The girl had not even appeared confused. She was dead to the world, as a stone or a puppet.

He did not remember what he had said exactly; the next thing he knew, he was outside, breathing deeply, his hands shaking, and with an intense urge to drink.

He did not know what to do. None of them did. What was Braedan thinking when he took this woman-child in? Braedan was absent as always, trying to overthrow the Empire or scheme something in his cabin.

The girl had become unresponsive after that. She did not even question why her scalp had been shaved bare. She did not question anything, in fact.

Radzik had used in all languages he knew: Polish, Imperial Standard and English. He had tried to explain her condition and that he had to remove her hair because of lice.

He did not ask anything about her, trying to reduce contact with her to a minimum, trying to follow common sense.

Braedan had received Radzik's report and with an impassive face. He had said that he felt sorry for the child; however, he wanted answers about what experiments the Empire had tested on her. Radzik had told him in a few carefully-chosen words where he could stick his desire for answers. The captain had answered calmly that either Radzik would do it, or he would do it himself.

The physician had chosen the lesser evil and attempted to make another blood test after Braedan's repetitious insistence. He had learned, then, that the child did not like the sight of a syringe.

He had learned this quite clearly, as the child had her eyes wide and glued on the syringe. The injector he used did not appear like the typical instrument he had learned to use during his twelve-year old Medicinae Magistrum education.

This Injector was one of Braedan's "toys", along with various others Radzik was gifted with, to help him make his job as a physician easier and more effective. Yes, these dreadful toys helped.

That time however, they currently they had made a traumatised child scream and hide under the bed and the action probably earned her more bruises than all previous weeks spent on the ship combined.

The first one to arrive had been the dragoness, responding to the unusual, high-pitched cry for help.

What happened next still baffled the doctor. The girl had scooted on all fours like a mouse from beneath the bed and had clung to the dragon's leg, trying to hide beneath the scaled chest. The dragoness had looked beneath herself, tilting her head and regarding the small lump of clothes now attached to her limb.

Radzik had hoped it was curiosity. Despite the many years he had spent next to the beastly companion of Braedan, the two had never shared a deep connection. Something about dragons scared him. There was no doubt that they were intelligent and extremely powerful. They were also as unreadable as a rock's surface, to Radzik. He had felt the dragoness could very well have decided to attack and kill the girl for intruding her personal space.

The sharp-tailed creature had not injured the hiding child. She had stood still for a moment and then had sniffed the youngling. She then had snatched the girl by the clothes on her back and trotted away through the small, gathering crowd.

Radzik had run after them, at least once he had recovered from shock. He had dreaded that the former young prisoner was already dead. Instead he had found her in the cargo bay, her brightly-red woollen cap sticking out in the middle of the dun- coloured hay mattress. She had snuggled up against the purple creature and was already fast asleep.

As Braedan was the only one who could communicate with the creature, he had explained later that the child wanted to be protected and had sought a defender in the dragoness.

Balerdargur had understood the young one's plea through her sense of smell and had responded to the girl's needs. The part which Radzik did not want to learn, but had anyway, was that the dragoness had been at the end of her mating period and taking care of the child would satiate, for the time being, her need for a hatchling. Selfish to the core, that blasted dragoness was.

One could certainly not deny that times had now become much more peaceful for the girl.

She still did not want to communicate verbally, but she did not scream anymore when her blood was drawn for testing.

And Radzik had not used that ridiculous piece of so-called advanced technology anymore. Instead he had used a scalpel and a vial, making a small cut on her finger and letting the blood drip. Even though this was much more painful and invasive than the other method, the girl did not seem to mind as long as the dragoness was near. Radzik was just relived that the procedure did not made her scream.

The aged physician had given the girl the name "Lalka" which was Polish for "doll", as he did not want to call her "the girl" all the time.

The crew had become instantaneously enamoured of the youngest addition to the ship's population, and there had not been a day without some small gifts placed on the sock-filled hay that ranged from food, clothes to jewellery.

Remarkably, the girl's appearance had also incurred occasional singing and a general moderation in drinking.

However, it had become soon apparent that Lalka was not interested in any of the gifts.

The food had served only as a snack for her scaly guardian, and the shiny trinkets had to be removed because the dragoness would stare at them for hours, utterly bedazzled to uselessness. Dragons and their love for anything lustrous!

The crew's time of peace had ended several weeks later with the arrival of the Empire soldier and that mysterious white dragoness who had set their course to this region.

It had taken efforts on the captain's side to keep the morale from reaching a dead bottom and to keep the crew following him. For once, he had needed to rely on commands rather than requests.

If the crew rejected Braedan's orders, he and the egoistic dragoness would just continue the journey alone and the crew would have to trust in the hope they would find another captain as effective as their current one.

And so that was how Radzik had ended up calling for Lalka in the cargo hall, cursing at the weather's chilly welcome, their ship docked at this forsaken, Viking-infested island.

He was now huffing into his bony hands and planning his next move when he heard the distinct clicking of claws against the wood behind him.

"_W ko__ń__cu_!" He exclaimed, irritated. The dragoness had been gone for many long hours, leaving the child on her own.

Disgruntled by the dragon's irresponsible behaviour, he purposefully ignored the creature behind him as the heavy clatter stopped right behind him.

He had to turn, however, as something pushed his back gently.

"**_Now_ **_what_?!" he shouted furiously.

All colour drained from his face. _This_ was not the dragon he had expected.

The tall, sharp-fanged and muscular silhouette of an azure Nadder looked down at him with what Radzik could have sworn was utter boredom. As the doctor was too stunned to do anything for a moment, the dragon bent his neck only to crack it loudly.

The display of randomness changed the atmosphere and gave the physician some time to gather his composure.

The Nadder had visited them once before when they had anchored by an island nearby to visit Braedan. The ship owner had also told Radzik what to do in case of further visitations.

"I will be back," Radzik said politely. Politeness seemed appropriate, even though he doubted the creature could understand him.

The Nadder regarded his departure \only for a split moment. Yet during that moment, the doctor knew that he was being examined as one would study a threat, and he felt strangely exposed.

He came back with a glove-like device he used for all scans and documentation of his patient's progress. He saw the girl had moved and was now sitting upon the sky-blue dragon's neck. He pretended to ignore this and presented the technological marvel to the Nadder.

The next thing he knew, he found himself waking up in an unfamiliar white room . Then he heard two peals of laughter, one which sounded as if it belonged to an adult woman and one to a girl.

Radzik sat up to eye the most bizarre scene he had ever seen in his life.

On a white piece of white material (_Why must everything be white_? he asked himself) no one other than Lalka lay on her stomach, working with coloured wax pencils on what seemed to be a piece of velum. Other coloured pencils were nearby, _floating in the air _in a neat row.

Despite this, Radzik had to orient on the proverbial elephant in the room.

_Why white?_ He asked himself, and the laughter died.

He then realised he had said it out loud. Both the drawing girl and the white dragoness model in front of her now stared at him; the first with her usual mistrust and the second with what could only be defined as warmness.

"Ah, Doctor Radzik," the dragoness spoke pleasurably in very clear and softly-sounding English.

He was as much surprised that she talked as that she pronounced his name correctly.

"I'm Seven. How do you feel? I hope Aeon was not too rough with you?" She asked, turning her gaze back to the girl and nuzzling the side of her face, thus turning the child's unwelcoming frown into a childish giggle.

Seven whispered something into the child's ear, nuzzling reassuringly once more, before standing and heading to the physician.

Radzik closed his jaw, cursing mentally on how foolish he must have looked.

He had been living with Braedan for one third of his life; he should have been used to unusual things happening. Not as weird as this, but still...

"I'm... well, Miss Seven- was it?" He said politely as he regained his footing. He was completely uncertain what title should he use to address the dragoness, although the creature made no indication she had anything such as one.

Seven approached and offered her paw which appeared quite like a human hand, even equipped with an opposable thumb and short claws. Radzik did not hesitate this time; he took the peculiar appendage and shook it.

"If by Aeon, Miss, Seven, you mean a blue drake I saw before waking up here, then I can say he did no harm, though he surprised me a bit," he admitted, breaking the handshake.

"I'm happy to hear that. Are you aware of what reason you were summoned here, doctor?" She asked good-naturedly.

"Yes, Miss," the man stated simply. They moved closer to the girl; Seven now lay down in front of her and Radzik kept his distance, which seemed to keep the atmosphere peaceful for the youth, a thoughtful frown again gracing her face.

"Is something wrong, my little star?" Seven asked the child in a motherly tone. The girl bit her lip and pointed at the parchment.

"You have one leaf, then three leaves and five, how many of them would you have next?" She asked beamingly, "Look carefully, there is a pattern here."

Radzik then realised that Lalka could indeed understand English and was doing some... tests? He remembered reading of such examinations during his university years in a book called _Psychologia: Mente en Anima Studium_ _( Psychology: The Study of Mind and Soul)._

The girl scribed something on a piece of paper. Radzik added education to the girl's mysterious past.

"Very good!" Seven cheered and nuzzled the hairless child's scalp to the youth's delight. The parchment lifted itself in the air and turned to the blank site," Now, can you draw something special for me?" She asked serenely and received an eager nod, "Can you draw... hmmm," her eyes narrowed slightly as she pretended to think deeply.

For a dragon, her muzzle was extremely expressive, "Draw me something that makes _you_ happy. Now, I need to go and talk to the nice doctor. Don't worry, I have a friend who will keep you company. Here he comes!" She pointed at the wall which, as on cue, opened almost soundlessly. Two figures entered, one humanoid and one draconic.

"Aeon, please attend to our young guest while I am gone," she addressed the Nadder, who wordlessly separated his path from the person next to him. He lay down by the child, who reassumed her task, worries forgotten.

"Braedan, I hope the tour around the complex was rewarding," Seven stood up and flashed a quick smile to Lalka before walking closer, Radzik still in respectful distance.

The weapons trader nodded, hands held behind his back. He also wore white clothes as, seemingly, every other human present in the room.

"Doctor, join us please. We have much to talk about," She invited and the senior complied with a cultured nod and smile.

The wall opened itself again, wings folding upwards onto themselves to form a neat rectangle.

"Madam, may I ask one question?" The physician asked.

"Of course," Seven answered as they strolled through the much darker corridor.

"I am wondering how you manage to strip, wash and clothe in sparkling white every human which happens to be taken here," Radzik noted, more pleasantly than offended; however, he wanted to make a point.

Seven laughed. Both men could not help it but to like this dainty and melodious sign of mirth. It was exactly like a human's, eerily so.

"I only do this to humans I like," she joked, eyes sparkling with amusement, not guilt or embarrassment, "I mean no harm by doing so. I need the place to be as sterile as possible. If it helps assure you, I did not touch any of you while changing your clothes. If you wish, next time I can keep my eyes closed as well," she grinned fully, revealing several sharp fangs a row of incisors and molars which did not escape Radzik's attention.

Omnivorous. Interesting. So much as a human. Eerily so.

Braedan seemingly ignored their exchange. If his leader was content with how things were, the breaching of privacy was a small price to pay. Radzik did not ask any other questions about it.

* * *

Hiccup's eyes opened slowly and a droplet of sweat dripped silently from his eyelashes to the bed covers.

There was always a brief sense of serenity after he emerged from his consciousness, a blank state of indifference, no matter what his mind decided to show him.

He took a breath, as if this was the first taste of air in his life.

He had started thinking of his sessions as being reborn again each time. At least that was how it used to work. It had actually become harder for him to maintain his focus after Toothless had disappeared.

Images of tormenting fire were his best companions on these journeys within himself, along with pain, fear and loss. This ruined the originally- enjoyable factor of meditation, and it was becoming almost unfeasible for him to maintain the necessary focus. Never before had he felt the pressure that such loneliness had on him. How weak and insignificant he felt!

He had received promises of power, promises of guidance and even his leg back. Yet he did not want any of this. He had learned already that he was nothing without others. Without Toothless.

"Don't go crazy now," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

"Err… well... crazier," he corrected himself, quite accurately.

He reminded himself of what Braedan had said. Would his choice to help his friend also cost him thirty-two lives? He certainly hoped it would not.

His hope would turn out to come true.

It would actually cost many, many more lives.

Above him, the dragoness Balerdargur invisibly continued observing him, completely uninterested by his inner turmoil.

* * *

On the secluded piece of land known as Berk, life moved on. Stoick finished another meeting with the Council. His brother still fought to stay alive with his terribly burned body, his wife always nearby and their son trying to fit into the role of second-in-command and deal with the prospect of his parent dying.

Snotlout was thick to emotions, he knew that, but he tried his best. It was what his father would expect from him.

He did not notice his dragon, Firewyrm, was now missing. Even after the battle, things still were hectic on this island in the middle of nowhere, one nobody should have remembered or cared about.

Fishlegs travelled across the hilly landscape, looking for the missing dragons without success, trying to quell his anger and jealousy of what Hiccup saw, heard and experienced.

Where were all of the dragons?

This was not for Fishlegs to know.

Not yet.

Ruffnut threw another gutted rabbit on the pile and wiped her forehead in the hot and musty room. She knew the rough basics of cooking and butchery as every Berkian woman did. The work was silent for her; other women in the Mead Hall kitchen had quickly stopped trying to involve her in mundane gossiping as she huddled herself in the corner and did her work.

The smell of blood, skins, flesh and cold was all worth it to the normally-feisty blonde. She did not need to think, not about dragons, not about her mother stopping drinking for once. And certainly not about how her mother had become the loudest and most-slurred voice against incorporating dragons into the society. The woman had made her point clear, first by shrieking and then by running with a log of wood after the panicked Zippleback her kids brought home.

Luckily, the woman had been in her usual post-drinking state and, after a short dash, she had only hurt the ground by pivoting face first into it. The two-headed dragon had disappeared the following day, joining an apparently terrified cloud of wings, shining scales, emitting cacophony of roars, squawks and throaty gurgles as it winged off the island.

Her brother spent most of his time at the house working on pottery, of all things! Not that he was bad at it; on the contrary, he was considered the most gifted in the trade by many villagers.

However, instead of projecting his talent into work, Tuffnut kept himself busy with nothing particularly creative, just drab utility ware.

His best friend was occupied more and more with leadership duties, his sister was strangely silent and moody, not even fighting with him anymore. Life after the destruction of the Red Death sucked for Tuffnut. He wanted a change of pace, Something to happen to switch Berk from the gloomy aura which seemed to infect everybody.

Celebrations after the won fight had died out. People just raised one, quite important, question: "What now?".

It would have been so much better if something happened and ended this period of misery!

Something would actually happen.

In fact, tonight.

* * *

The sun was nearing the end of his daily journey, descending in red and orange hues on the calm ocean. The days were much shorter up North and much, much colder to what Amyna was normally accustomed from her childhood in dry and hot Trepizond.

However, concentrated blasts of cold wind mixed with sporadic drifts of snow did not stop her daily routine as she straightened up from a kneeling position on a small prayer rug. She turned opposite from the sun and calmly rolled up the piece of material.

The deck of the ship was almost empty: most of the crew was inside, hiding from the cold. They used a shift rotation system with a large hourglass to determine whose turn it was to go up.

As during her prayer, she did not lift the hood from over her head. She wore a long and heavy cloak densely padded with fur. It helped her get through the unwelcoming climate.

Without a word, a brutish man rushed towards her and waited for her to give him the rolled _seccade_, which the soldier quickly put in a decorative sack and then rushed away from her sight.

Nobody on the ship wanted to maintain eye contact with the only woman on the ship for longer than it took to get the order, bark "Yes, Sir- I mean Ma'am!" and then escape to do what was told with unquestionable diligence. Overall, it was a harmonious coexistence, even if inspired by mortal fear.

That mortal fear was the same reason which had almost caused her to go on her next military operation alone. Kyndal had been true to his word, as always, and had covered for her about the loss of over thirty shipmates in a non-battle situation. The supervising officers had called her in for a formal meeting to hear her explanation. She had expected to be removed from her current position, even anticipating solitary confinement.

Instead, she had gotten away with only a written warning and a promise of rank degradation upon further unsatisfactory levels of supervision.

As she had left the office, she had almost run into an innocent clerk who moved with a pile of documents, deep in thought.

Whatever Kyndal was doing now since the last time she saw him, he had become somebody very important.

The Empire's Military law did not bend for anyone. Especially not to those capable of wielding _Tagma_. The more power one had, the closer watch the Empire paid to those individuals.

Still, she saw a mistake in her actions. She had predicted that the crew made of the worst individuals the Mainland had to offer would not leave her alone.

She had let her anger take control over her, even though she was expected to execute standard disciplinary action upon her underlings. It should have ended with a lashing. It had actually ended with everybody who had dared resist her discipline to be left near dead. These men were like beasts, and they would be treated as such.

The rage still burned within her. She still saw in those criminals, now hastily obedient with eyes full of fear as a primal form of respect, the thugs who murdered her family and scarred her.

It was foolish to cling to the past, and she knew that. Her previous experience with outlaws had been one of the biggest considerations made before she was designated for this project,.

Her military career actually had been a brilliant one; she was one of those who were destined to lead and change. She had still rejected all of it for the prospect of building a family and being a mother.

Kyndal had been the biggest supporter of it, "Escape the battlefield, escape this cursed land. Go away with your beloved. I will protect you," was what he had told her when she last saw him. He had not even come for her wedding, although they had stayed in close contact by mail.

The sun had now almost disappeared. It was time to move and satisfy those who counted people as numbers… mainly, by increasing her survival rate.

She was one of life's Users and she was away from the Empire borders, so she could deal with this situation by _her_ rules. As long as the objective was fulfilled, nothing else mattered.

As the small rowing boat was lowered on the gentle tides, she killed all her emotions, turning her piercing blue gaze towards the island in the distance.

Berkians would not expect anyone to approach them from the back, climbing the insanely dangerous, sharp and vertical cliffs.

It would take only one person and one dragon to defeat that whole posse of life-long trained warriors.

The tiny dragon moved slightly beneath her cloak. Away from prying eyes, Amyna slid her gloved hand beneath the cloak's buttons and gently pet Melleth's small head snuggled over her shoulder.

Melleth really was the reason why she still continued, why she still followed orders. As soon as she had been introduced to that tiny, yellow blob of hissing energy, she knew she would not, could not, let go of that new life of hers.

Only those on active duty were ever allowed to have a dragon as a companion. If she ever retired or was removed from armed service, this would mean the end of her relationship with the tiny dragon.

Failure was not an option.

Amyna grasped the paddles and let her strong arms propel the boat, backed up by her will, towards the dark silhouette of the land on the horizon.

It was impossible for her to notice the dark object high above her, observing her every move.

The Nadder turned away from his target with a graceful aerial flip and headed towards Berk to wait for the prey to enter his domain.

* * *

**AN: A bit of a cliff-hanger there. Something's going to happen, that's for sure!**

**To those who do not remember what's going on with the little girl. She was saved by Braedan few weeks back and it turned out the Empire used her for some experiments (if you have any other questions, reread the story or send me a PM or leave question in a review).  
**

**Important things now: **

**If I haven't told you that yet guys, thank you all of you for reviews, PMs or more silent support. Cheers. I appreciate a lot that you still stay with me on this story. Thank you.  
**

**As always thank you to Fjord Mustang and mysterious frog-chaser for pre-reading. Now I'll also have a new beta-reader HellstormOP. He's great to discuss ideas with. Onwards.  
**

**Editor's Notes:  
**

**ValVole (the frog-chaser): The scenery is in place, the cannon is away, the author is free. Characters are set, with their traits and psychology. All the pawns are now in place for a first game on the Berkian chessboard. Now... will every unit move as designed, or will there be one or several wild pieces to act out of pattern? Will we get a clear and frank checkmate or a draw that will only leave room to more questions?  
**


	37. Requiem Part One

**AN: This and the second half of this chapter are quite important for the future events. Sorry for the delay! Writer's block... Thank you to Fjord Mustang for reviewing the chapter! Look out for her next story, this time in the Rise of the Guardians universe!**

* * *

The wind was howling like a murdered man.

The freezing air, mixed with even colder brine, splashed widely across the rowboat's edges, rocking it like a leaf on an angered torrent.

The half-crescent moon did not provide a lot of illumination as if thought it had grown tired during the colder months.

Water dripped from the impermeable, black cloak as Amyna surveyed the cliff towering over her, balancing in the middle of her small vessel at the same time.

The rock formation seemed slick with moisture and smooth as glass.

She left the boat to the merciless waves and tied its lead rope to a rock that she then stepped on. She lifted herself onto another one right next to the enormous wall's surface.

Even in the dimmed light, two objects that she retrieved from beneath her long robe glistened in the woman's palms. They appeared as large, metallic pegs, thicker as her thumb and as long as her forearm.

Simply out of curiosity, Amyna tapped the stone with the handled tool's sharp end. Granite. Not even a scratch.

The female soldier whispered something soothing to the dragon on her back and closed her eyes for a moment.

She raised her hand above her head and plunged one of the nail-like tools into the wall.

With a loud crack, mostly muted by the roar of the foaming billows below, the wall relented to the tool's nail, quarter length of which ended up embedded in the rock mass.

Bracing her body against the cliff with one hand, the warrior lifted her other hand and repeated the sequence.

With a rapid, acute echo, the second nail also plunged with ease into the solid material.

Morning would come late for Berk after this night.

* * *

Pebbles slid in disturbed streams as Amyna ran downwards the mountain hill with an ease and speed more appropriate for a dragon.

The wind bit her face mercilessly as her light-footed stride made her seem to soar above the rocks, so scarcely did they seem to touch the ground.

Barely able to see at night, she relied more on instinct and senses that had been heightened by her current state.

She felt the sole of one boot heat up as she jumped towards another point on her journey down the precipitous surface and deeper into the darkness.

A pine's top took most of her neck-breaking momentum, its core whining and leaning with the applied force as she grabbed it for balance. The stealthy woman jumped off the freshly-appointed decelerator and landed on the hard forest bottom.

She did not savour these heavy winters, although she had to admit that the silent, moon-lit forest had a romantic quality. It was a very good atmosphere to maintain concentration. The coldness forced focus and the quietness, awareness.

The village was lit, almost cheerfully with smaller and bigger fires in the distance as she regarded it from another cliff's edge. This island certainly had a lot of sharp edges as if even the landscape forced toughness on its inhabitants.

She let out a deep breath as she gently tapped her dragon's head twice over her shoulder, letting him know it was safe, and that it was time to show himself. The narrow and small yellow muzzle stuck out from the cloak's edge as the dragon looked around with curiosity.

Amyna waited as Melleth fully walked out and positioned himself on her shoulders like a lazy cat expecting a ride.

The difference was that cats were not as resistant to temperatures as dragons were. His caretaker kneeled and took the creature in her hands, feeling the slow and strong beat of the drake's heart beneath her glove. A pair of big pupils looked up at her: what did she need from him?

"Hide yourself," Amyna whispered as she took off a scarf from one of many pockets and holders beneath her cape and tied it around Melleth's neck. The youngling would be calmer if he had something that smelled like her. She mostly did it for sentimental reasons, though,"Mummy needs to go. I'll be back at dawn. Don't show yourself unless you know it's me," she said gently, petting the side of dragon's head. He leaned into the touch.

"Go," she said quietly and the dragon ran-leaped away from her, turned back once and disappeared in the shadowed woods.

They separated, even though the protocol stated that a dragon youngling must be concealed and kept with its handler at all times.

It was a change to the rule she had invented herself, so that if anything would happen, then it would happen to her alone.

This would prove to be the best decision she could have made.

The even surface of a frozen meadow looked cosy enough to spend a few hours there and simply wait.

She looked up, trying to observe the stars which, as if toying with her wishes, appeared dimmer. It did not matter.

Something struck the back of her head powerfully, and she saw stars, brighter and more beautiful than any sky would ever offer.

* * *

Melleth found the spot he looked for. It was a narrow ravine in a dried creek, its end pointing at the village below. Now it was inhabited by the wind, forcefully brushing the sides of the yellowish youngling. As trained, he kept his wings tight close to his body and let the gusts pass him.

* * *

Amyna woke on her own, with a jerk that almost made her scream from pain.

She attempted to reduce the hurting with mind-control. This sent even more ache through her body. Now she did not scream but yelled her lungs out, almost passing out from the agony.

That pain was comparable with the time when she had given birth for the first time.

"Please avoid moving," somebody said as her spasms finally reduced to minor twitching. Despite her state, she already knew what was happening.

She had been captured, rendered unconscious although not for long as she could tell from her reaction time, her hands and legs were not constricted. However, she sensed something along her spine. She could vaguely feel needles piercing the skin and bone. Her captor must have given her some anaesthetic to reduce the pain. That pointed to one thing.

She was meant to be kept alive. And she knew that war prisoners are kept alive for a few things: interrogation, for exchange of goods or other prisoners, or as a political pressure tool. Or, even worse, to be hung, cut, tortured similar gruesome mutilations to her body done to entertain a crowd in the morning. The situations varied according to the culture or fantasies of the executor.

"Can you talk? Please, look at me."

The voice, a smooth and feminine alto, spoke from a different position, one closer to her.

Amyna was curious on how the woman knew Imperial Standard, as the language was known only in Empires colonies or Nifgradral after the capitol Nifgrad.

Other possibilities and theories bloomed in the prisoner's head, faster than anyone would expect from a person who should have been shocked, afraid and panicked.

Amyna felt none of that, and she stayed with her face turned towards the smooth, reflective white floor. That floor was much too clean and well kept compared to her usual experience with prisons.

Her handler sounded genuinely concerned. If she wanted to check on Amyna, though, she would have to approach closer.

Then it would be Amyna's chance. It would most probably prove futile; however, she would not discard a chance to get free, no matter how slim.

Her more than sufficient strength had not yet been diminished by the inevitable starvation and torture prisoners faced.

Her plan was futile, indeed; her keeper simply lifted her up without even having to touch her.

Amyna's kept her face hard and unmoving as her body levitated in telekinetic field.

"I apologise for how Aeon treated you," her captor said as if reciting the formula for an umpteenth time, "he adheres to the rule 'better to use more than less' ".

Amyna stilled a breath when she saw who was talking to her.

Red eyes slid over Amyna's body in clinical scrutiny before they returned to the pieces of parchment held in a paw-hand.

The Imperial soldier's rigid training gave way to confusion, and she stared blankly without uttering anything.

The dragoness turned the scrolls towards the prisoner.

"What do you think about them?" She asked, looking directly into Amyna's blue eyes that refused to acknowledge the question.

Unperturbed, the creature hid her muzzle behind the scroll, ultimately exposing the uncooperative human to a drawing.

"This was made by a twelve-year old girl," the gentle voice came from behind the held-up primitive illustration,"the given topic was: what makes you happy. Please note that the artist was kept as a subject of medical experiments and later as a sex slave for a depraved, disillusioned leader of a fanatic semi-religious, semi-military organisation. Intriguing, don't you think?"

Amyna did not found the topic interesting. Mostly disturbing. She looked at the picture.

Simple, curvy black lines, a girl with a smiling face and red, masses and masses of red blobs swimming in and out of what seemed to be a pile of bodies.

"I am amazed by this creation," the white-skinned creature spoke as she turned the parchment back to herself.

"Not by the subject, but by its expression. I feel exhilarated when gazing upon the full magnitude of the girl's withheld emotions. It's truly a dream spun into life with a few colourful pencils."

The dragon-like being looked back at the prisoner with mirthful eyes Amyna already did not like.

"Isn't it absolutely amazing? Seeing for the first time how your own thoughts, visions and fantasies can be produced outside of your mind? It's one of the powers of art, in whatever form it may be. An indirect conversation, a glimpse into one's...heart? Mind? Brain? Soul? Forgive me, I don't know which of the terms would be most acceptable for you" she apologised, unnecessary so.

The scariest part was that the dragon-thing appeared sincere in her demeanour. But the bizarre mask of tranquillity and internal satisfaction did not crack as Amyna was lowered back down with delicateness.

This must be some sort of opening for an interrogation, an elaborate tactic to enforce a false sense of security.

"What do you think of this other drawing?" The dragoness asked.

Amyna complied by looking at the shown drawing. Every moment spent without pain and torture was time she could use thinking of how to escape.

The dark blob resembled a dragon with an unnaturally big head. Its green eyes were enormous and a reddish symbol marked the disproportionate forehead. Next to the blobby dragon was a stick-figured girl with a crescent line for a smile.

"This drawing is sad," the light-coloured creature stated,"it speaks of longing, of pining for better times. Look how accurate the symbol on the dragon's forehead is, how finely defined the eyes are. She has spent a lot of time looking at them. They allow her to reminisce and to engage her curiosity. A guardian figure... no wonder she is comfortable only around dragons. She's convinced that they represent goodness and gentleness, something which would not harm her. I'm quite certain that she hates her own species. How about you?"

The white dragon asked the prisoner, who now sat with her legs crossed and a passionless facade.

"What imagery helps you get through the life? A mental crutch you can support yourself on? Is it a memory?" Seven looked at one of the pictures briefly," Or perhaps it takes a form similar to the creature in which my young patient finds consolation in?"

Seven tilted her head. "I know that you did not arrive alone. Humans might be fooled, but I can sense the smell all over your body."

Amyna shuddered internally from relief. Melleth had not been captured, and she hoped it would remain this way.

"We will capture your companion sooner or later, and then I will explain my plan towards you. Know that I do not wish to harm you; in fact I want you to leave free... You don't believe me, do you?"

The dragon-creature asked this rhetorically, as Amyna did not present any evidence she thought like that. She did not believe any of the traitorous words, of course.

"Luckily, I don't need your cooperation for this to work. What I expect you to do is to simply... wait, But, before I leave, here are a few ground rules," it took a moment for Amyna to realise that something appeared out of nothing in front of the dragoness.

"This is what I put along your spine, woman."

There, levitating, was a nail-like object, but one with a more flattened head and hooked along the pin with a glass-like core.

"I've installed seven of these devices along your spine. They are designed to hinder your Tagma manipulation ability. You cannot remove them without specialised instruments. If you do get bored and decide to toy with them, please kindly remember that these hooks are well-embedded in the middle of your spinal nerves. Therefore, if you don't plan on extending your career as the Empire's first paralysed military officer I would advise you to leave them alone," Seven explained this calmly, and the pin-like item appeared to dissolve into the air.

The dragon rose herself up onto three legs, the fourth one still holding the drawings.

"I have also removed the poison capsule embedded in your tooth. If you still wish to commit suicide as you were taught to do after being captured, I know there is not much I can do to stop you. You would probably find some way, and probably a very agonizing and slow one," she appeared to think for a moment. "Actually I could do a lot to immobilise you to the point you could not even move your eyeballs, but I trust your judgment. After all," the red eyes turned to Amyna,"I do think you would like to see Melleth again."

Amyna's interrogator left, leaving behind a very confused and terrified prisoner.

* * *

Hiccup sighed for the fourth time, scratching the side of his neck as he looked around the familiar, empty white room. No sign of Seven. However, "empty" did not mean that he no longer had a dragoness as a babysitter -or a guard. He sensed she was still in the room. He played a bit with the white sleeve of the garment he wore, trying to identify- futilely- what it was made from. He felt restless and agitated.

Seven had promised him some knowledge on how to help Toothless and, by the Gods, it would make him happy not to feel like this useless, one-legged, ill toothpick he had become since waking up to a changed world.

All he had been able these days was to meditate, eat and listen about how his best friend was developing some sort of condition. And, all this while. His village was slowly hurling into civil war over the dragons' status as allies. Or pets. Or as fish-gatherers. Or as corpses.

Opinions were divided.

His father had softened the truth although the signs of the inner upheaval were transparent on Stoick's face when he attempted to lie. Hiccup's friends also did not sugar-coat the news.

Hiccup wanted to do something; any movement was still progress, anything to take this crushing swell of guilt, remorse and seclusion out of his chest. Why bring him here if not to talk to him, teach him something amazing and helpful?

There had been no advancement for him, only mind-numbing wait. And it was torture.

Breathing harder, he sat on the edge of the bed. Its structure, as well as the material it was built of, was as alien as the surroundings.

Even his clothes were beyond his understanding. He was kept in a place he had no idea about, supposedly kept here for his own good.

Was the woman-not-goddess telling the truth? It was too late to question himself or anyone else.

He knew that the choice was now taken away from him; he did not have the power, strength or knowledge to oppose it. As Braedan had said, he was a tool. Hiccup was content with it. As long as it helped Toothless.

On the small table by the bed he noticed, once more, the shining exterior of the glass with the helpful additive (as he called it) inside as if taunting him, reminding him of his inutility. The mocking factor was increased by the metallic crutch leaning against the furniture. He picked up and briefly considered smashing the pale blue container as it cooled the interior of his palm. He saw rippled green eyes in the shaky liquid.

In the end, Hiccup did what was best. He drank.

* * *

"Have you checked the perimeter?"

"Ten times."

"Then check it again."

The purl of water filled the cramped -for a dragon, anyway- room with soft murmur, along with warm mist.

Seven had her now-humanlike face raised, silently enjoying the relaxing sensation of heat enveloping her body. The Nadder cracked his neck loudly as he regarded the woman with a bored stare, the heated air condensed on the silvery plate curving around the creature's eyes.

"Stop it, you know I don't like that," Seven said dreamily, not opening her eyes. The blue dragon took this as a cue to give his report.

"Tagma signal- silent. Thermal signature matching a dragon's-negative. Olfactory trail detected by the capture point and lost in nearby area. Reattempts to find it again- failed," his head bent again to sound the spine's bones again, although it stopped at the last moment.

Even though Aeon's eyes were hidden beneath the visor, he was definitely regarding the humanoid figure. He glimpsed the last remains of a congealed substance beneath her feet quickly disappearing through the grate.

"The bioelectric sensor did not work at all, and colour differentiation on HMD seems set up for a human. Can't see green colour at all," the Nadder complained with no verbal reaction.

Seven touched a circular protrusion, and the cascade of water stopped immediately.

"I did not have time to calibrate all components completely. I'll repair it once we have stabilised the situation," she stated, stepping to the metallic bench where various pieces of equipment lay, all in perfect order. The only item in disarray was a small pile of white clothes, thrown negligently on top of the matching boots. Aeon did not mention that his leader had somehow found time to take a hot, relaxing shower; he knew better. Seven loved to be clean at all times. It was one of her quirks. One of very many.

"I did not know the water systems were operational," he warbled as the humanoid woman picked up a neatly folded rectangular piece of white material and started wiping the remains of the water from her body.

She could have done it much quicker using Tagma, yet she preferred doing almost everything just like a human would. It made things more natural, she said.

Talking about quirks…

"It was the first installation I've restored. It did not need a lot of work, only cleaning some pipes from rock and residue," Seven answered happily, dressing into a uniform exactly like the one which lay in the heap behind her.

" I still do not know why you are not outside looking for Melleth," she observed, putting a pair of gloves- white, of course.

"Last time I went outside, you ended up with an incapacitated teenager and with debris buried inside your chest, not counting the hole in the titalium wall and equipment destroyed that cost net worth of a few countries," the Nadder rebutted instantly. He knew he was over exaggerating, even if only a little.

"Your concerns are noted," she said, her tone emotionless, "Keep to the protocol. Aerial recon: every five intervals, report. You know the drill...I will be prepared this time," she added as if to persuade the protective dragon.

True to her philosophy, as always, the next items on the strong worktable seemed better suited for battle preparation.

Heavy, almost knee-length boots made from various, dark grey metallic components on a black fibrous material clicked into place from the top of the foot up. The boots sealed themselves tightly around her legs.

"Your protocol is faulty, in this case. We have two battle-capable individuals. That's not much, considering that the opposing force possesses a group of more than one hundred Tagma-capable soldiers and dragons. The odds are sub-optimal, to say the least," Aeon stated adamantly, shifting his body. The edges of his wings glistened with a dangerous sharpness. Bladed pieces of metal had been fastened to the appendages with black belts.

Only a few other plates were strapped to his body along his tibias, thighs and the sides of his torso, with a triangular piece at the front of his chest.

"My armouring is considered to be a barely provisional-type, as well. The weaponry is almost non-existent, and the structure offers little to no protection. The only thing we have in abundance is energy, but not much equipment to power it with," Aeon continued his irritated tirade whilst Seven sheathed her thighs and waist in more protective armouring. She was in the middle of putting the chest-part, the bottom of which hung open as she inspected the coverage of shoulders.

"And I don't trust the pipe-choker and the purple hedgehog," the Nadder hissed.

Seven pushed her hands. The aegis' sides clicked and closed around her torso,"They are stronger than you," she noted, securing braces.

"For now!" The Nadder rebutted aggressively and then huffed, folding armoured wings against his sides.

"On what power percentage can you operate?" Seven asked, putting an armoured glove on her left hand and a scanning device on the right - they blended perfectly with the rest of the equipment, as if they had been designed for it.

"Twenty," the blue-scaled warrior answered.

"Stably in a combat situation?" the white-haired woman remarked.

Her last piece of protection, a helmet levitated from the bench alongside her. She strapped it on. Then she bent and took each piece of used white clothes. She folded them neatly into a perfect square.

"Sixteen...," the Nadder said with contempt.

Seven turned her head in the middle of finishing trousers and raised a pale eyebrow.

"... If I push it," he finished.

The door folded inwards automatically as the pair entered the corridor.

"You still haven't taken the restrictions off Akil," Seven noted and the clangour of armoured feet against the floor stopped as she turned fully to the following drake,

"Why?"

The Nadder for once did not provide an answer, and she could not tell how his eyes looked like, concealed by the metallic plate.

Then, surprising even the dragon, her gaze softened.

"Let Akil help you. He's a part of you, no matter how much you wish otherwise. If you want to blame anyone for his existence, blame me. This is the life I forced onto you-"

"I will deal with Akil," the Nadder stopped the self-depreciating speech.

Human-shaped lips jerked into a delicate smile.

"When the right time comes," Aeon clarified.

"Of course," Seven agreed. She could have given him the order to release Akil, and he would have followed. She never did, though. It was something with which he had to deal on his own.

"Where are Braedan and the old one?" The Nadder asked.

"Occupied, trying to analyse the chemicals they found in the girl's blood," Seven replied.

"You gave them access to the analysers?" Aeon sounded shocked.

"That was the deal Braedan wanted. I was to provide him with equipment which would identify the compound. I filled my part of the bargain," Seven, for some reason, smiled wider and brushed nonexistent dust from her armoured shoulder

The Nadder, noticing this, thought for a moment and then grinned with satisfaction.

"I see."

* * *

Radzik was not a happy person at the moment.

"Let me get this straight. You traded one of your most advanced and best-preserved armours for the possibility to know what the Empire is using?" He said, almost calmly considering the situation.

They had both spent the previous couple of hours doing exactly what the weapon-trader had wanted.

"Yes," Braedan said with a clenched jaw. He wanted as much of his dignity to remain as possible.

"Well," the physician took a hissing breath, "here it is," he pointed for the third time at the hologram in front of them with a very detailed and complicated atomic structure of the substance, "I can understand that you made this decision in the heat of the moment, not thinking clearly. But can you tell me how are we going to know what it does, if none of us has any reference to work from and has never dealt with such advanced chemistry before?!"

Radzik continued this tirade. Braedan pretended he was not bothered, arms folded and face emotionless.

"That we know from what it's made gives us no advantage! I can't understand such an advanced display. Hell, the image alone could spawn a few branches of science in its own right! "

"I thought you would know what we were dealing with. The data module I gave you had some information about advanced chemistry there," the trader defended.

"Something?" The doctor questioned in disbelief," The manuals there indeed contained something about it, but do you have any idea of how this works?"

Braedan did not answer.

Radzik shook his head, "Look, _przyjacielu,_ we were always separate when it came to our professions. You were out getting money or trying to destroy the Empire, and I was trying to learn more about biochemistry and medicine. But I can't learn everything there is to know! All I can tell you about this device," he pointed at the square, black box with its holographic display on top, "is that it is a type of spectrograph that uses optical vortices. And even if we were able to identify what type particle it is, the name alone would not tell us anything. We do not know how it affects the human body, or what the short and long-term effects of it are. We need a different approach here. Either we make more tests on the girl, or you nicely ask Miss Seven to give you information about the compound or help us analyse it and truthfully you might be great ship Captain but you are as good scientist as goat's ass can serve as a musical instrument," the Pole explained accurately. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the back of the dimmed room.

He walked to the one of the prepared beds,"I'm going to sleep, Braedan. Miss Seven will be back in the morning to unlock the room. Discuss such things with me in the future, Brade. We've known each other for a long time. Maybe it's time to let others take a peek into your secret life. Dobranoc," he called.

Braedan heard the rustle of the covers and the hum not only of the machinery in front of him, but also of the entire place. The pearly glow shaded his face into a stone mask as he surveyed the results of the analysis. It took him a short moment to decide what to do. He turned off the projection, reducing the light to a very soft blue glow emanating from the top of the ceiling.

"Radzik?" He asked towards the beds.

"Mhhm?" Came a murmur.

"I'm sorry," Braedan spoke quietly.

"Nothing happened to be sorry about. Just... try to rely on others more from now on. Some fights you can't fight alone."

The merchant lay in his bed and closed the tired eyes. If only his scientist friend knew what he up was against if he would join him in a fight. It was too dangerous.

Even the prospect of sharing the burden with somebody else seemed empty as it had never been before.

* * *

"I'll put the prisoner to sleep and then join you in whatever you plan on doing next," the Nadder decided.

"There is no need for that and, unfortunately for you, I'm going to visit Hiccup, have a nice conversation with him and then send him home. I'm sure he's mad and scared. I'm late and you are continuing to stall me," Seven complained.

She was sure the Nadder's eyes narrowed behind his visor.

"The prisoner poses a threat, no matter how small it currently is. I'm sure you have a good reason why you wanted her alive and unharmed, but human ingenuity cannot be underestimated. It never hurts to be safe. Wake her up when you need her to be. Control her. Unless... you want to gain her trust," the Nadder mused, the long tongue slipping between his pointy teeth as he thought.

Seven appeared almost amused, waiting.

"Come to think of it, the moment the Imperial User appeared on the island not long after you were attacked seems like a bit of a coincidence," he creaked his neck to the woman's displeasure, "I think you made her come here!" he stated.

"I did," Seven admitted easily.

"What are you planning to do with her?" Aeon asked.

"Let her go," the Keeper answered calmly.

"Interesting! You want her to work for you? How are you going to do this?" The Nadder's tone became both stimulated and agitated.

"She has a strong tie to one of the soldiers who attacked me," Seven explained calmly.

"The one wh-the one you killed?" came an elicit response. Bladed wings shifted slightly as the dragon took a quick step forward, "I am looking forward to hear how you are going to make that happen! Glorious, absolutely glorious!" his tail waggled in great satisfaction.

Seven did not appear pleased by the praise, her eyes becoming colder as she appraised her companion.

"Go to the prisoner. I will take care of Hiccup. Meet me at the gate in ten minutes," she ordered, walking away without turning back. The Nadder strode almost with a spring, happy of the future entertainment he would receive.

* * *

Amyna pressed her palm against the air and moved it horizontally.

The air was solid at one place, two steps from the end of her cell and ran along the partially-scraped black line on the ground.

Her fingertips surveyed all reachable space without luck. She would have marvelled over this seemingly impossible feat of technology had she not needed to find a way to escape.

Her captors did not constrict her movements, which seemed an enormous flaw in a plan to keep a highly resourceful and trained person contained.

She gave the field a cautious hit with the back of her hand.

She yelped as her hand jolted back. A whitish ripple travelled from the place she had struck, revealing the shape of the keeping-space. She looked at her twitching fingers, inspecting them for any damage.

That thing did not like any attempts on breaking it.

Despite all the new information and her will to escape, Amyna's biggest concern at the moment was to abide by her training and not give the enemy any further possibility to gain information.

With her hands free, it gave her apt opportunities to do her teaching justice.

The other option would win, though. Amyna was aware of that. She had to know Melleth's fate; she had to know what happened to him. It was her biggest mental weakness, and the enemy had played on it flawlessly, capturing her attention by saying one name and destroying her options.

The message was clear: play nice and you will see your friend again.

She looked up, noticing the perforated surface in the ceiling. The mattress bent beneath her light boot as she stood on it. She put the tip of her finger to her lip and then raised it as high as possible.

It was there! A soft current of warm air. It had an almost unperceivable smell to it. It smelled... of the outside. She dropped to the floor and groaned, she felt every small tremor on her suppressor-rigged spine, and it was a far from pleasant experience.

Her strikingly-blue eyes surveyed the ceiling above the door. Upon seeing the same perforation outside her "cell" for the first time since she had been imprisoned, Amyna allowed a few more optimistic thoughts to enter her mind.

When the door opened and a blue-scaled, armour-clad drake entered, she barely constrained the smile growing on her face.

Soon, she would gain a new ally. Perhaps there was still a chance for her to escape.

* * *

Seven ran a quick mental checklist.

Braedan and Radzik were locked inside the research section.

Lalka was deeply asleep, with the help of a gentle anaesthetic, in the medical bay.

Amyna was currently being taken care of by Aeon.

Seven obviously knew more about the prisoner than she had let on.

She knew about her dragon and that he was young, not even an adolescent. He might have been treated as a beastly companion, but in reality, he served as an outlet for the motherly feelings suddenly crushed by the past which Amyna needed to express.

This was her weakness, and Seven had to exploit it for her benefit.

The white haired woman secured the levitating helmet beneath her arm.

Hiccup was still not used to some things and it was best to avoid exposing him to them yet. It would be enough for him to see her in a more natural form with red eyes and white hair. She had planned all the conversation which would follow. She would explain to the burned boy a bit of the theory behind his condition.

He would nod his head in understanding; however, he was doing so only for Toothless' sake. The moment she had put his best friend's condition in the balance, she had known that Hiccup would obey her wishes willingly.

The strong do what they can; the weak suffer what they must. It was a good saying. So human… reeking of imperfection and truth about the world.

And there she was, using her superior strength to use the human. She felt guilty, yes, although no matter how much it would gnaw on her emotional strings, she would not stop. The stake was much higher than the life of this boy, this island, even of her or Aeon.

She took a deeper breath. It was a habit, not as a necessity. Her lung function was always perfect, her heartbeat always controlled along with all the metabolic and physiological functions of her body.

There was no space in her life for imperfection.

That was when she almost lost her balance, placing her right foot, clumsily too much on the side. It was followed by her left missing the natural rhythm. Her reaction was instantaneous; she did not blame it on her emotions or lack of concentration. It was impossible for her to miss a step like that. It was a fact. Her vision blurred.

Deregulated lens? She was not tired, she did not need rest.

She was being damaged.

She tripped over her own legs as she tried to move and dropped flat on the cold, stony floor, not feeling the impact through the armour which did not manage to protect her in the slightest.

She felt as if her mind was slowing down and she was being wrestled into losing her autonomy.

Her shaking eyes drifted toward the ceiling, and her fingers twitched as she lost control over her body.

She eyed the end of the air vent: circular, small holes creating a rectangle.

Her eye pupils' quivering slowly ceased. The surface of her eyes became glossy, her finger movements stopped.

She knew what it was the moment she hit the floor.

The human had never been the real threat.

The little dragon was.

* * *

The snow owl's dark silhouette slashed the moon's grand crescent shape. The bird of prey glided between the trees, quickly and soundlessly.

But this changed as its white head suddenly collided at full speed with a tall pine tree.

The animal's spine broke with a quiet crackle. Its body dropped into the snow, unmoving, in the middle of a herd of wild boars.

None of the wild hogs moved, however. Every pair of eyes, half hidden by bushy eyebrows, just stared emptily into the woods.

Scarce snow dropped in lethargy, slowly burying the feathered body beneath it, as well as the larger mass of the absolutely still boars.

Somewhere in the forest, a twig loudly snapped as another bird collided with it.

Not many people journeyed through the village so late at night, yet several would lead heated discussions in the Mead Hall with the aid of the beverage the premises were aptly named after.

But the blushed, drunken faces had now lost their grimaced shapes and looked forward, completely expressionless.

Time had just stopped for almost everybody on the island.

* * *

Melleth's ability affected almost everybody.

The space to the left of Hiccup's bed came to life in a vivid cascade of electric arcs. Balerdargur appeared from her stealth-mode form in her usual manner. There was one very important fact which had changed: she was not moving, not in the slightest as in her still eyes appeared a reflection of movement.

Hiccup's head slowly turned towards the door. Suddenly, a serene smile blossomed on his face.

The silky bed sheets slid to the ground, waving in glistening patterns.

In silence, one pale foot lowered and made contact with the floor. A knee cracked as the boy started to push himself from the bed.

He laughed softly- almost childlike- and offered his hand to the air, invitingly. His pale arm hung there, unwavering.

"Don't go," he pleaded quietly,"I won't let you go," he said with a giggle.

Ignoring the prepared crutch right next to him, he let himself slide from the bed onto the floor, his body thudding hollowly against its surface. He sat up and, like a child, he crawled on hands and knees towards the door. The undignified position did not bother him in the least. He had other things to concern him.

"I won't let you go!" he repeated again, "Not this time!"

A droplet of blood splashed beneath one of his knees.

With a weak shift, the youth crawled towards the right end of the door.

He gave another child-like laugh, and he lifted a hand from the floor, using it to search for something on the wall.

"I am list-e-e-e-e-n-i-i-i-ing," he called in joyous sing-song.

His head started to twitch and his eyes rolled inside his head.

Hiccup closed his eyes, exhaled. Instantly, a smile materialised again, strangely out-of-place.

He raised himself to his knees, awkwardly. His fingers touched a small, almost invisible, protrusion on the wall.

A rectangular hall in the wall opened, revealing a panel with various buttons on it. In a blur, as if he had always known the code, the boy's fingers danced on it, and stopped as fast as they had started.

The gate opened.

Breathing a bit deeper, Hiccup dropped back to hands and knees and continued crawling towards the bellows through the dark corridor.

"I'm c-o-o-o-oming," he said with mirthful conviction.

He completely ignored everything in his surroundings.

Seven's inert body in the middle of the corridor went unnoticed as he crawled by.

Hiccup had a much more important goal to obtain.

In the dimmed corridor, his green eyes seemed to glow like two flickering points above his white, wide grin.

Hiccup slowly advanced forward, knowing very well where he was going.

He had made this journey before.

"I'm co-o-o-ming, Mommy," he said softly, leaving Seven's unmoving body behind him. He ventured towards the darkness.

It was not long until it consumed him.

* * *

Melleth waited patiently, thinking only about when he would see his caretaker again.

He was not aware of what he was just doing or why.

He was doing what he had been trained to do, and was doing it because of his growing connection to the blue-eyed woman with the strong hands but delicate voice.

Tonight this little dragon happened to possess a very special and very unique ability that would change the course of the whole world.

He would never know about it and, truthfully, he would not even care.

All that mattered was to sit hidden with the wind behind him directed at the biggest human building agglomeration and wait for his beloved human to return.

* * *

The hole in the wall was still there, clearly visible as a dark blob in the monotonous grey surface.

The only light in the area was provided by one visible rectangular screen. It stood out in the middle of a "forest" of various technological marvels ranging from a strangely-shaped black box to mysteriously shaped tools scattered on along bench.

All of this was dominated by sizeable cables twisting along the floor and walls like veins. They all led to the second light-source, one casting a prominent shadow, casting a greenish glow on everything.

The tank in the room did not change, nor did the body within it.

The dark dragon's body hovered, subsided in the liquid amid a manifold of air bubbles and small pockets. One of them tore itself off the unmoving tip of an ebony snout, travelling jerkily upwards before stopping on the rim of the liquid.

A hundred mysterious metal objects pierced the draconic body, along with several attached wires that curled their way upwards from the opened tank.

There was no movement, and the periodically blinking lights and faint blips of electronics meshed well, creating a serene scene.

It all was disturbed by sounds permeating the air.

At first it was soft scrapping and shuffling in the distance, but it gradually grew louder. The sounds neared in daunting rhythm, now punctuated with heavy breathing.

Green, glowing eyes appeared in view first, reflecting light as cat's would. Then the white-toothed smile came into existence, followed by a crawling body swathed in greenish growing clothes.

Through clenched teeth came a breath that hissed with every movement of hands and knees. The pale face was marked with glistening sweat, hair stuck to the moist forehead.

The youth came closer, and the darkness scattered away before him as he neared the light. The dark silhouette of the human appeared small, insignificant against the entity before him.

Hiccup neared the thick glass. He used the legs of the tank to brace himself as he stood up. He balanced himself on one foot by leaning against some of the metal columns surrounding the tank. He saw himself reflected in the container's glass. His hot breath appeared on the transparent layer as a white mist as the temperature drastically dropped by the tank's surface.

The summoned human raised his hand, his reflection did the same and slowly they stretched their hands towards each other.

The twins made contact. Hiccup did not register how cold the exterior was, even though it instantly sucked all the warmth out of his palm.

He was finally here. He had been called and had arrived as requested.

In his mind, however, he was certain he was going to meet his mother. Even though he knew she had been dead for over eleven years.

He did not realise that his will was not his anymore.

Hiccup looked into the reflection and saw his face split.

Just like an egg shell and with a deafening crack, the black dragon's containment broke, deforming the reflected image of the person. Ice-cold liquid started flooding the floor; the wave ran as high as the boy's knees, the tank's fluid level getting lower with terrifying speed.

Silent screens burst to live and the shrill sound of an alarm penetrated the complex. But nobody would come to answer it.

The ebony body, clearly visible from the other side, journeyed down with the water as its tank emptied itself.

Not a muscle or eye expression changed for both the Fury and Hiccup.

Finally, the torrent turned into a rivulet, and soon there was almost nothing left inside.

An ear-piercing screech louder than the alarm grinded against the boy's ear as the tank's halves shot across the floor in opposite directions. A cascade of sparks erupted against their bottoms, crushing against the wall in a heap of shattered glass and bent metal scaffolding.

Right in front of Hiccup lay Toothless, muzzle down, wings partially unfolded. The great body was pierced with hundreds of thin pieces of silverfish meta. It did not move.

Amongst it all, a thick layer of chilling vapour started to form. It entangled the boy's knees and slowly consumed the broken, draconic frame.

Hiccup's hair rose slightly and weaved slowly. He felt himself rise up in the air his leg emerging fully from the mist.

On the table, items started leaving the bench's surface as well, inaudibly clinging as they bumped into each other. These sounds were drowned out by the alarm as the tools levitated upwards.

The whitish mist almost did not stir as it all left the ground.

Accompanied by myriad floating droplets of the liquid that had imprisoned him, Toothless now ascended.

The pieces of metal which had invaded his body now came out. They forcefully erupted from Toothless, one by one, all in a shower of blood.

The Night Fury's body jerked violently, again and again, as each piece was removed.

Red blood droplets formed globes and sped away into the darkness. A few of the flying red pearls splashed on Hiccup's face as he impassively observed the scene.

With the last metal piece withdrawn, the dragon's body now was mottled with wounds and a multitude of sheeny red hovering beads.

The injuries began disappearing, flesh, skin and scales reforming. Old scars flattened to nothingness.

One injury behaved differently, however.

The mark at the end of the tail behind the tail-fin bulged, as bones and tissue were generated until it recreated the amputated flying appendage.

Toothless' body was being recast in pure perfection.

It had to be.

It now was exactly how the sanctuary for a higher being should be.

The dragon's ebony head rose and a pair of toxic-green eyes opened focused on the youth.

A sharp-clawed paw unfolded and moved towards Hiccup's face.

It passed by the boy's head and rested on Hiccup's burn-scarred back, pushing the boy towards the dragon's chest. A second forepaw encircled the youth's scrawny frame.

Two, enormous black wings unfolded and, with delicate care, closed around Hiccup. The Viking youth found himself encapsulated in a tight, velvet-like cocoon.

The Fury's black pupils narrowed, peering down at the little human who had seemingly freed him with the lift of a hand against the tank.

Its grip tightened, and the boy's breath became a wheezing struggle.

The dragon's bluish- black muzzle cracked open in a sharp-toothed grin.

The being conjured a thought meant only for the one he embraced.

MINE

In a flash of blinding light, the Fury disappeared into nothingness, leaving only empty space behind.

Everything fell down immediately in a mass of clangs, thuds and splashes.

Hiccup and Toothless were gone.

* * *

Amyna heaved deeply, leaning against her helper as she descended towards the meadow where she and Melleth had parted.

The wounds from the Tagma inhibitors hurt as if somebody had been digging five, rusty arrowheads into them and twisted them slowly. It was a sensation she had personally encountered.

Actually, it was only a small portion of the agony which travelled along her system. With every touch or move from her muscles, her nervous system burned with white fire, consuming her focus and will.

That white-haired woman with the strange red eyes had been telling the truth when she had said that those small devices were connected to the nerves in her body.

Amyna fell on the ground; her cape and clothes rippling from the forceful contact.

She groaned and rose slowly on her shaking hands and even more trembling legs.

With this pain she could not focus long enough to enforce mind-control and reduce the pain. Her eyes travelled over to her helper.

"H-help me," she wheezed, raising her arm, hoping to be assisted off the withered grass.

She felt something entering her, and her fear did not allow her to react in time.

The terror ended soon, though, as a sense of soothing cold ran along her body, extinguishing the burning sensation her abused nerves caused.

She knew what to do. She closed her eyes and concentrated, easing her breathing. The alien sensation abandoned her, leaving her with a numbed, yet still tangible pain.

Her helper clearly possessed much better skills than she did.

She stood up and then whistled a peculiar sound which echoed between the silent woods. She waited for a few moments before a flutter of wings was heard above her.

The frozen herbage crunched as the tiny cause of the commotion leaped towards the beloved human who gave him scratches and cuddles.

Melleth stopped noticing the Nadder Amyna had behind herself. But some coaxing words from the tired-looking woman, her outstretched hands and her kneeling made him understand that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Her face had a certain blank expression and her voice tone was scratchier and less melodious than usual.

Still, it was always better to obey, even in such strange situations.

The yellow dragon climbed up on Amyna's body, wiggled his way beneath her coat and took his position on the soldier's back.

They moved again.

* * *

She never had these blurry, half-conscious awakenings.

They were always rapid, sudden, senses sharp at once and body ready to be utilised.

She now noticed a shrilling alarm, red, pulsating, shimmering lights flashing along the walls.

Seven stood up rapidly; a helmet lunged towards her hand. She grabbed it and put it over her head, twisting it slightly as the lock engaged.

She did not need to be told what the siren meant.

She took a look into Hiccup's room, and one glance told her the scenario.

It still did not answer how the boy had been able to open the door by himself.

Too many variables: she needed more information!

She ran towards the containment room with a speed that would make even the Nadder wary.

Carefully, she threaded her way between the corridors.

In a few moments she was there; as a cannonball she charged into the room, sliding through the knee-high, milky, mist. She reviewed the damage.

Barely missing a beat, she ran to the one of the still-working monitors. Her hand pressed the top side of her PSCMD's, and a narrow tube jutted out. She pulled on it, revealing a cable which she connected to the socket on the screen's side. With several taps of the buttons on her forearm, she downloaded the data regarding IT's escape.

She journeyed immediately through the corridors.

There was no time to waste; she would analyse the information on her way.

The door opened as she reached another objective.

The holding cell was empty. Her pupils focused on the few small items inside it, appearing as thumbtacks with glassy, hooked tips. Five of them lay sprawled and useless, all with blood on the tip which had already started to coagulate.

All of them now levitated before her face and then started disappearing into thin air.

The smell told Seven what she needed to know and it was- in simplest terms - very bad.

She ran once more and quickly checked on the other people in the complex. All were present, and all disabled by the gas in the air.

She praised the ingenuity of the Empire as she travelled towards the exit.

Or was the ingenuity merely a coincidence?

Out of every species of dragon the enemy had to employ, this dragon was one of the few which relied on a chemical to stun their prey. Somehow it never worked on humans to this degree, it had never before been so potent.

In every meaning of the word, the small dragon had become a bioweapon.

Seven stopped, the entrance before her. The massive, circular door was swung at the side, the night wind whistled as it trespassed inside.

She passed it; the scenery changed. Chalked stone, polished by millennia of dripping water.

The moist floor of the cave splashed in rapid succession as the Keeper made her way towards the exit.

It was small; several stars twinkled on the horizon through the window to the outside. The air in the frame of the exit seemed to wave gently.

Seven passed through the exit, and and air blinked around her body in arcs of electricity.

She stopped right out onto a stone pedestal in the middle of the mountain and peered slightly down at the silent village of Berk.

Behind Seven there, was no visible sign of the existing entrance, thanks to a ward-device which could conceal space by overlying holograms of the surrounding environment, in this case the mountain side.

Glowing light bathed the upper half of the woman as a hologram appeared alongisde her head. It displayed in green and white lines a three-dimensional topography of the surrounding area.

Two points appeared, both with clearly visible rune-like symbols next to them.

They were located at the Docks. The enemy clearly was not expecting her to be able to move yet.

Physically, there was supposed to be no illness or poison which could keep her down for longer than a couple of minutes. She had been created to prevail through almost anything, and prevailed she did.

She gamely followed her targets in pursuit. The forest cover closed in around her as she leapt forward. In a couple of minutes this whole struggle would end.

As Aeon would say "This will rid us of one problem".

* * *

It was useless.

The tall, blue, bipedal dragon did not react to her request to fly with her on his back.

The creature seemed to react to something else, though.

Amyna eyed the rows of drakkars, all with their sails folded for the night and tied to the docks as they creaked and chain sounded in the darkness.

She was searching for any available rowboat, as she was not familiar with the how to operate a drakkar.

Sailing had never been her forté. She had been trained in bow, sabre and fighting with these weapons from the top of a horse.

Suddenly she heard a hiss behind her. She looked at her helper; he was standing with his back to her and looking up.

She instantaneously understood the body language.

They were being followed.

* * *

Seven was pressed against one of the rocks so abundant along this steeply plunging cliff by the harbour.

She could barely sense the escaped Imperial soldier down by the water. No doubt the former prisoner was using Tagma to stabilise her nerve-crippled condition.

Then the Signal disappeared. Abruptly.

Seven had been spotted.

She lunged away from the boulder. It exploded, debris bouncing off her back with metallic thuds.

Pirouetting in mid-air, she caught the sight of a shiny blade. It cut in a wide arc right above her face as she bent backwards and sprung off her hands, gaining a bit of distance against her attacker. She landed on stony ground and took a defensive stance, standing still as a statue.

She spotted the unmistakable silhouette of the Nadder, blades shining along his wings as he somersaulted back and disappeared beneath the edge of the cliff to ready another surprise attack.

The question was: what to do?

If she used Tagma, Aeon and Amyna would sense her; of course, that was also true for them.

She had, however, one enormous advantage over them.

Two transmitters in both of the current adversaries made it painfully easy for her to track them.

There was almost no possibility for the human to overpower her.

The Nadder presented the biggest issue.

She had never fought against him; however, she had seen him fight many times. Each and every time, she had been glad he was on her side.

The enemy now had to attack her with full force or flee from the transmitter detection range.

As Amyna was not aware of being trailed through the device beneath her skin, she would most likely attack.

She felt the energy appearing along her body. She would slowly increase it, until the enemy had to react, not wanting to be overwhelmed.

Her right fist flexed and a hologram shined above her wrist, showing the position of each target. For now, she waited.

* * *

"Melleth...," Amyna's voice was calm and collected, "get off me and hide," she whispered to her little companion.

The narrow snout poked his way out of her furred collar, his smooth nose pressed to her pale cheek. The youngling whimpered pitifully.

"Hide," the female warrior whispered and petted the drake's head. Reluctantly, the beastly companion hopped down to the deck, looking up to his master.

"Go," Amyna repeated and ran towards the rock-stairs, putting a hand beneath the coat's covers.

Headless rivets shined in her hands as she moved upwards.

One opening, it was what she had asked. One opening, and the battle would be over.

As she neared the top of the cliff, she sensed a second energy rising rapidly and then clashing into the first.

A furious gust of wind sliced through the air with a booming crash.

Amyna could count three more. In such quick succession they fused into one.

Otherwise, the battle seemed silent. No scream of surprise, no roars, no gasps for air.

On the side of a small hill which was being turned into a ploughed field, she saw two glimmering figures blinking on the ground.

Her eyes, not able to see perfectly at night, saw the blades on the tall dragon's wings move in lightning-quick arcs, each leaving a white trail.

She saw her enemy then, as he or she moved with matching speed, avoiding every attack with impossible grace and technique.

The occasional spark from the wing-blade catching on rocks lighted the pair for a short moment before they turned back to a collection of shiny smears in the dark.

Amyna raised her hand.

* * *

Relentless.

His attacks were relentless.

Seven dodged another attack, a powerful side kick, only to be surprised as the Nadder, with a sudden swipe of his wing, propelled himself into a lightning-fast pirouette. Sparks flew as the sharp-edged wing caught her forearm plating raised in a protective gesture. The same hand twisted and, in blazing speed struck the wing right at the place it connected to the body, where it hurt the most.

Aeon seemed not to notice the blow which would have permanently disabled flight ability on any other dragon Using the close proximity to the human, he struck with his knee. A gasp, sounding almost like a sigh followed as the limb connected and threw Seven's much lighter body above the ground. In mid-air, the Nadder took a sharp breath A bright yellow glow appeared at the back of his opened throat. His slitted eyes narrowed as he shot the fireball. The blindingly bright orb cut the air with wild howl, aimed at the defenceless figure.

It never met its mark as Seven's body twisted, palm shot forward as if to catch the destructive projectile. It changed its course rapidly; right before hitting, the air around it solidified in an instant as Seven caught it in a telekinetic grip. She pirouetted, taking the caught missile along with her. Then she released it, right back at its creator, even faster than before.

The Nadder shot away, barely in time. The fiery ball sizzled by his rapidly-moving body, burning the straps which kept one of his wing-blades in place, and flew towards the horizon. As he shook his flying appendage to remove the now useless equipment, there was a thundering explosion on the ocean when the bright orb hit, lightning the whole island in a yellowish aura.

Seven waited for another attack, not exploiting the situation to her advantage as the gust of warm air from the blast assaulted the fighters.

Aeon's movement were slower than they should be; he also had limited Tagma control. Most probably he was not aware of what he was doing, his mind suppressed by the chemical and susceptible to outer commands. She could have end the fight quickly if she wanted to. The problem was that she wanted the Nadder, Amyna and her dragon to be captured alive.

She had to disable the Nadder first.

"Aeon, stand down!" Seven stated loudly as her companion started circling her, tail raised without a sign of recognition to her voice. She tried again, now from a different approach, " Akil! Command. Cease the unit's motor functions. Authorise by voice recognition. Process the command," she stated.

In response the Nadder swished his tail, launching few of his bony quills, forcing her to move.

Akil was still not working properly. Still, it had been worth a try as long as it posed a possibility. If Seven's assumptions were correct, her First-Speaker would obey only one person. Obviously, there was a fail-safe mechanism in place to prevent anyone from influencing the controlled being. What was it? A specific phrase, item or gesture? The sound of voice? Some sort of verbal password seemed probable, she thought as she parried a swishing leg swing aimed at her torso.

She grabbed Aeon's limb by the ankle and, with a grunt and twist of her body, she hurled him away, aiming at the cliff over the ocean. She did not want to damage his assistant during the fight, and it was the main encumbering factor during the fight.

She stepped back rapidly as her second assaulter attacked. With the Nadder momentarily out of the picture, the Imperial soldier now joined.

Something skimmed hardly over the Keeper's arm, without any resistance or a dull sound of deflection by the protective gear. She did not even have time to turn towards the attacker, as there was a loud hissing crack. She had heard those before, and she realised that the cleverly-won armouring she was clad in offered no real protection. Not against projectiles flying with five times speed of sound.

Something bore into the ground, right next to Seven's boot as she changed her position. During that time, she briefly spotted the side of the arm where she had been hit and saw a red-hot stripe of overheated metal in a form of small canal. That was a shame, she really wanted to have the armouring remain undamaged for longer. She had even considered giving it to Hiccup.

At least she was finally able to see her new contender, not that she really needed to; the soldier was brimming with Tagma, her presence as clear as a sun during the cloudless day.

Amyna was going all-out. Her hands plunged beneath her cloak and, as they appeared again, they both had long nails in them, not squeezed in her palms, but levitating above them.

Seven's red eyes widened as she eyed the weapons' sharp ends. Her feet left the ground as she jumped aside. Amyna's eyes did not leave her body for a moment. It was then when the lightning cracked along the human's hands. The electric tendrils manifested themselves in rapid waves, and the projectiles disappeared from her hands in an instant.

Two simultaneous impacts. Both missed as Seven changed her direction in the last moment, although she lost her skilled footwork for a moment.

The human woman's hands retrieved two more projectiles quicker than it seemed possible. This time, the Keeper had no contact with the ground to avoid another attack. Beneath the helmet, crimson eyes narrowed. A small, round pebble hovered above the ground in Seven's levitation field and then zoomed at the attacker just as she was to strike. The seemingly insignificant rock hit one of the nails just as the electromagnetic force was almost at its peak.

The effect was immediate. The careful and practised conjuration of energy broke. Only one of the nails was fired, one not stricken, overshooting horribly. The second one fell on the ground, and the sharp curves of electricity which were supposed to propel it instead misfired and tore into flesh. The smoking glove and deep scars in the uniform and, possibly the skin, indicated the severity of its impact.

Seven was by Amyna in an instant, hand reaching for the human's white-haired head. However, it seemed that the Imperial soldier had an answer to that.

The lightning appeared again in even more intensively, assaulting Seven's eyes not only with blinding light, but also with a distinct smell of ozone. The electric field burst, electrocuting everything on its path. It did not strike Seven, though.

Amyna had only a split second to see another lightning field, same as hers, encapsulating her adversary's rapidly moving body and sliding through her own attacks as if they did not exist.

The blue-eyed soldier was hit in the head, once, lightly. Physically it felt almost like a friendly tap. The electric surge behind it, however, caused her to involuntarily clench her jaw. Her body jerked forcefully as her vision filled with a white more brilliant than a dozen suns. The unnatural lightning around her disappeared as she lost control over her Tagma flow.

There was no pain or awareness. It all came back to her as she lay on the ground, heart hammering against her chest, breathing shallowly. Fighting for every breath, she looked up into the faceless helmet of the enemy who had defeated her. Her still-spasming hands made their way beneath her cloak to defend herself. She knew it would be futile.

An immaterial force lifted her from the ground, spreading out her hands and keping legs pinned together.

"Please, don't do that," said the mysterious adversary. The clearly- feminine voice was a tad distorted by the helmet.

"Please"- the words echoed through Amyna's mind. Who poses polite requests during combat? Somebody who is utterly stupid- or someone utterly in control?

Amyna used all her will to concentrate and attempt to break free from the holding field.

She was tapped once more. This time, the shock she received was gentler, but it was still enough to make her howl in pain as her focus broke completely and she felt the full volume of pain.

"I do not wish to harm you further. Please, stop resisting," the enemy said.

Amyna had a feeling she had heard this voice before. That time her jaw clenched so hard she felt the tip of one of her teeth breaking.

Yet, despite the polite request, her captor's hand shot to her neck. Amyna shut her eyes, sensing the tingle on her exposed skin where she knew the tips of the metal-clad fingers were. The pricking was from the electricity which the person in front of her could call upon at any moment. The captor was only keeping it docile at the moment.

When an eerie silence followed, Amyna opened her tired eyes to see what had occurred to stop the finishing blow.

The blue-scaled dragon who had been helping her came back. One of his legs was lifted, hovering before her enemy's head. The Nadder stood on one leg, motionless. He would not follow through, as it would mean death of the one he was protecting. He was merely awaiting Amyna's instructions.

"Order him to stay down," the red-eyed woman said in a stoic voice.

Amyna actually smiled in a crooked, cruel way. She kept her eyes locked at the place where other set of eyes were.

"Kill her."

The Nadder roared as he pirouetted and his leg slashed through the air in a death-dealing blow.

Amyna fell to the ground, released and barely moving. The fight continued outside her vision as she only saw the dark, starless sky. Something nudged side of her head gently and whimpered. She looked to her side, seeing a terrified Melleth, his yellow snout nuzzling her check and licking, prompting his master to move.

"Go away, little one," Amyna said, trying to push the hatchling away. It only had the opposite effect; the dragon nuzzled with more force, whimpering pitifully all the while. On an instinct, he waddled to her hand and lifted it with his snout. He snuggled beneath it, seeking comfort and protection in it, as a child would.

"Go. Mom needs to be alone," she spoke, now hearing that her voice started breaking.

There was a shout from somewhere in the field.

"Stop!"

It was loud, clear, and the message was in Amyna's voice. It took a moment for the Imperial warrior to register that it was not she who had said that.

The sounds of battle ceased immediately.

"Follow me," the same voice said again. It was her voice!

Bewildered, she tried to understand the situation. Unable to lift her head, she rolled her eyeballs as down as possible. Melleth started hissing as the footsteps neared. Too soon, a dark human silhouette loomed over her useless body.

Amyna had faced death many times before, until the thought of her own demise became as natural as breathing. Fear for one's self became obsolete, even acceptable. However, there was a fear she could never eliminat: fear for others' wellbeing. Years of education and training, the same mantra repeated over and over again. Your companions might die at any moment, get used to it, don't dwell too much on it. Accept it and move on.

She remembered each and every soldier who had died under her watch; it hurt. Then there were the more personal bonds she had shared with a few people from her past squad, and the family who she would never see again. She remembered Kyndal and the little dragon who now left the protectiveness of her hand and lunged his tiny, inadequate body at the person before her.

The dark, armoured hand closed around his throat before anyone else could react.

Amyna did not hear the crunching sound of a spine being forced just to the breaking point She could not even hear the short yelp of pain. Melleth waggled his body with ferocity, trying to bite and scratch anything he could reach.

Even though the olive-skinned Imperial warrior still could not see the eyes looking down at her, she knew her enemy looked down at her, and in that gaze was a question, a proposal.

Every organism capable of generating Tagma protected itself from direct intervention by others. Amyna naturally had such a field around her body; it was like her body itself. As long as she was conscious, she could not be affected easily. A forceful breakthrough would result in injuries.

Therefore, the silent proposal was simple: Amyna could let herself be captured peacefully, and the little dragon would not get hurt.

It went all against her training and experience. She should have used all of her remaining concentration to kill herself and Melleth. All it would take was a bit of strain, a bit of pain and a little pulse of energy to the brain. Her young companion could not protect himself like she could. He was vulnerable, delicate. All she needed was to concentrate briefly, just as she had many times before.

Melleth's struggling weakened and instead of attacking, he tried to free himself. Futile, he started to whimper.

It was Amyna's weakness. She would relent, and it seemed that the adversary knew that, standing in grim silence.

She let go of all her defences, which brought pain and tiredness back, and they attacked her with vengeance. She was not knocked out immediately, though.

With a careful movement, the soldier grabbed the helmet's top, twisted it and removed it from the head.

A pair of strangest, red eyes looked down at her. The same eyes she had seen before.

"Thank you," she heard. The voice was assuring, promising. She had heard such voices before. Usually they were lying and manipulating; however, this time it was different.

This time she believed.

* * *

It was an understatement to call the present situation a mess. There were no words in any language Seven knew to describe how horribly wrong everything had gone- or to depict the dread she felt.

Fear of the unknown: maybe that was what it was.

She regarded the now-unconscious bodies of the woman and the dragon and then turned her eyes to the village. Processing an antidote for its population had to wait. Finding the second-born was the utmost priority. Finding and silencing it.

She had a perfect tool for that; she only needed time to use it.

Seven did not believe in determinism; however, at moments like this, she suspected that she did have bad luck in her life. Her existence up to now had definitely been on the bad side.

She desperately needed Akil.

She knew the game plan: secure the prisoners, synthesise the antidote, use it on Aeon, make him use Akil to find the second-born. She only needed a bit of time - and why of all things- why Hiccup?

Why was a being like her, who on every account could be considered a God, dependent on a human's help?

* * *

Reality came back to Hiccup as quickly as he had been ripped away from it. He took a sharp intake of air with an involuntary gasp Tossing his head from side to side, looking around his surroundings, dreadfully afraid of being attacked. The almost absolute lack of light made it hard for him to decide anything.

The air was filled with dangerous sulphur and a dangerous something! There was something, something there, he felt it with every particle of his being. He stood up only to fall again, the reality reminding him that he was without a leg. He did not feel pain Instead, he was filled with dread. He started crawling away. If he was indeed moving away from that something, it did not matter. As long as he moved, it was enough.

He did not remember much from his trip around the complex; he still had a memory of following the sweet voice, sensation or mirage. It did not have shape, but it had everything he wanted. He had followed the promise of meeting his mother, alive and well. It all had made sense at that time. Everything had seemed perfect. He had understood his mistake in the last split second before he disappeared together with Toothless.

No, that's not Toothless, he needlessly reminded himself.

He wanted to see the Fury, physically touch him, see for himself that Toothless was alive and still his friend. He wanted to know that the red-eyed woman with the beautiful, perfect lips had lied. Braedan had said Hiccup was a pawn, he was bound to be manipulated, deceived.

He was not, not at al! He wanted to believe that.

He ceased to move as he saw what the light he crept to really was.

High in the air, a blue, bright orb with lightning captured in it, thrashed against its invisible prison. It hovered silently. Hiccup crawled on the stone floor under it, finally able to discern some details of where he was. He neared the end of the ring of light the orb was emitting onto the floor, and his hand plunged into darkness. He shouted in pain and jerked it back. He looked at his palm as blood begun trickling from the cut.

Heaving, he leaned and slowly plunged his hand once more into nothingness to weave his way more carefully. Almost immediately, he found something sharp and pointy there. His hand grabbed it to keep a hold of it as he moved, only to find that the item moved with an empty-sounding cling. He tested it by trying to lift it and, to his surprise, it moved.

Slowly, he lifted the object into the dim neon light. It had a smooth surface, shadows lingering where parts of it had been broken. The sockets of the skull Hiccup was now clutching still contained the once-living creature's eyes.

He let the skull go with a frightened shout. The narrow, two-horned draconic skull seemed to laugh at him with its upper jaw as it bounced onto the hard ground

He heard bones breaking in front of him. He never had heard such a cracking sound before, but he knew what it meant. The sound repeated; the dry crunch snapped violently, followed by sickening silence. Out in the darkness, something neared, something making its way through the bones, crushing them as it moved.

Hiccup fell on his back, scooting his body away, crablike, as fast as he could from what was coming. He knew what it was, and he knew that he was too slow to escape it.

At the edge of the light-circle, he watched helplessly as the cracking thuds came closer, now echoing loudly. The being sounded massive. The heavy steps were now right at the edge of his vision. Hiccup stilled his breath as he prepared himself to see what brought him here. He sensed a lonely droplet of sweat travelling down from his forehead.

He shook as footfalls thundered and pieces of bones flew into the illuminated are, rolling and sliding on the smooth stone.

Hiccup waited for a few, pregnant seconds.

Nothing came from the front.

Instead, hot breath ruffled his hair from behind.

He lunged forward to escape, although he did not travel far. Stopped in mid-air by a supernatural grip, he was slowly turned back to the darkness. The contours of an oval head appeared, blending perfectly with the dark environment. The creature had no eyes, or so Hiccup thought for a moment. As the head approached the light, though, he could see the two enormous eyes looking into his own. The trembling teenager could not discern pupils, he noticed. These eyes were dull; instead of shining and reflecting light as dragon eyes should, they were matte, almost as if they absorbed light. It made the eyes appear black.

Aside from the eyes, this creature looked in every way like Toothless, with the same scaled body, the same ear-antennas circling the head, spines on the back and enormous wings on the sides.

However, it was not Toothless.

It simply could not be!

The youth raised his hand, not because he wanted, but because he was forced to. He was lifted into the air, moved closer until his palm hovered by the dragon's snout. The strange being pressed its nose to his palm firmly, making him cry abruptly in pain.

The Fury took deep breaths, drawing the scent of his blood-spattered hand inside.

Hiccup watched it silently; he could speak and, as far as his tell, his mind had not been affected by anything. Still, he remained passive. There was no other option.

The entity removed its snout from Hiccup's palm, without even the slightest trail of emotion or recognition. Hiccup was lowered back to the ground and placed on it, gently. The being gazed at the crippled youth where he sprawled out, half lying, half sitting- and totally dumbfounded.

Hiccup licked his dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of what surely was dried blood that had leaked from his blood down the lower half of his face. He now felt the skin being stretched on his cheeks and around the eyes; he did not want to pay much attention to that disturbing detail. It was just too horrifying to consider how the creature was doing this to him!

"W-what do you want?" He asked in a shaking voice.

The not-Toothless tilted its head and its maw opened, a bluish glow growing in intensity from inside it. A light- bolt came out, spherical and same in size as the one overhead providing limited luminescence. It drifted up to join the other glowing ball.

Then the black dragon created another orb, and another, all orbs grouping together. Hiccup covered his eyes as the light became blinding. The plasma-bolts then shot outwards, scattering away from each other. They soon seemed like small points in the distance. This area area must have been enormous, Hiccup noticed as he looked from beneath his shielding-hand. The light erupted from above, veiling the whole area in a soft azure hue.

Tentatively, the youth dropped his guard, since no attack followed the orbs. He now saw the grey, matte eyes, so different from the bright dragon-green he was used to.

A crazy thought entered his mind. Maybe- just maybe- Toothless was still in there!

Hiccup huffed, collecting his thoughts, and kept his gaze with renewed determination. He had let the fear take control of him: of course was Toothless there! It was Toothless,still, but somehow changed.

"Bud...is that..that you?" Hiccup asked in a soft voice. He leaned forward slowly, as if some terrible weight pressed on his whole body.

"Not-Toothless" stared back. His head jerked upwards and cocked slightly. The blue light above immediately changed its colour to white.

Hiccup shielded his eyes again as he was blinded for a moment with the sudden change.

The dragon now stood right in front of him, appearing calm, enormous. Terrifying - and yet curious.

"What happened to you?" Hiccup asked the empty, light-grey eyes.

After a short pause, Hiccup used his hand to wipe the small blood stain left on the tip of the Fury's nose. The dragon closed his eyes at the touch. The boy gave a small smile at this usual reaction he had received from such a nose touch in the past. Still, Hiccup had to face the reality. It was one of the biggest lessons he had learned since he had downed the beast in front of him. The lesson of who he, Hiccup, really was. He still did not completely, know but his experiences with the dragon had given him a glimpse into a new world of meaning. Of what dragons were. He still had no idea, although he was open to the new possibilities, more accepting and broad-minded than ever before.

He looked up and to his sides. He saw now that was in a cave, an enormous cave where the ceiling was so high he could barely discern any details, only that the stone appeared to have veinlike patterns in it. The ceiling looked beautiful.

He gazed into the alien eyes of the blue-black dragon and then turned his head backwards. He now saw what had injured his hand. He saw bones, thousands upon thousands of them, piling up one on another. Ribs, skulls, horns... broken, shattered and forgotten.

This was an ivory sea of death. Hiccup took in the vista impassively, absorbing everything he saw, every detail. He noticed the large gashes in the bigger bones, unmistakeable proof of giant fangs which had gouged them. He knew now what the purpose of this grotesque and ghastly display was.

Yes, he knew now had to face the reality.

He looked back into the grey eyes of a monster. His face hardened and his green eyes pupils shone with determination.

"Why did you bring me here...," he kept his gaze level," ...Red Death?"

* * *

**AN: This is where story starts to touch its "weird" area therefore I need your input about this chapter! Enjoy and review! Laters!**


	38. Requiem Part Two

**AN: This is part two out of three of Requiem without a doubt most important chapter in the story so far. If you do not remember what happened before, please reread chapters for better understanding of the current events. Time to face the truths for our heroes, at least some of them.**

**Big Thank You to Fjord Mustang for proof-reading this chapter, her help is, as always, something I would have never been able to write without. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

The skin was pierced easily as the needle slid into a vein.

The vacuum tube's sides immediately spurted with red liquid as blood was sucked in. Seven untapped the container with her blood and removed the implement. The sample immediately landed in the socket of a porous wheel lying in the contraption . She closed the appliance's lid, programmed the machine and turned it on.

There would be a half hour's wait to synthesise the antidote. At least.

The waiting time was acceptable in her plans, even though she had to monitor the process constantly and the waiting chained her to one place.

By her side, the Nadder starred emptily into space.

Hiccup would be on his own for the next thirty minutes. She really did not want to lose him. Yet, she had considered the possibility and had already made plans how to compensate for his loss.

It was simply who she was.

* * *

Hiccup was certain he was being understood by the strange creature. There was no other way such a simple obstacle as language would affect communication between him and the "Red Death," as his people named the monstrous beast. He also knew he should have remained silent and tried not to insult a being which had just successfully charmed him into leaving his hospital room and captured him.

Hiccup should have remained silent. It was a useful survival skill to have, that most primal of instincts. The Viking youth, naturally, hated being controlled by_ that_ particular instinct. Instead, he chose to be the one in control of this situation, not the beast. His brave decision still did not stop his body from shaking from fear. He had just faced something few others else would have, and yet he didn't seem to realize just how important or how extraordinary it was.

He'd made his decision not to cower and hide, and instead roll with the punches being thrown at him, accept this struggle, fight back whenever possible and, if nothing else worked, do his best to adapt.

Not able to stand up, he continued sitting, legs crossed on the awfully dusty and cold volcanic floor. But he still made sure his eyes held a firm, confrontational gaze, even if he couldn't stand up to stare down the beast.

Despite his enormous fright, the boy's heart still ached with sadness as he looked into the Fury's grey eyes. Those eyes seemed so similar and yet so different.

"I have no idea how you came to be here, Red Death, but I think I understand now," Hiccup stated," I think I understand what happened to you, why Seven wanted to separate you from me... She wanted to protect me, she really did," he paused.

"I remember feeling your influence and power before: first on the battlefield where me and Toothless fought you for the first time. You were there, trying to control me, but I did not really give it that much thought at the time. That's my famous attention span of a sparrow for you...," Hiccup said without a trace of humour.

The Red Death just listened, quiet for now.

"And then It was you, again- or your mind control at least- that woke me up and led me up from the room. You were beckoning to me...," Hiccup said, now feeling with a touch of apprehension ice his voice. He felt again how much pain and agony that connection had cost him.

"And the next time this happened, during Seven's demonstration of your abilities, I wasn't even aware of it. And yet, somehow, you..._learned_ me—how to _become _me, how to tie strings to me and make me dance your will."

He softened his voice in wonder, "_That_ was why Seven was trying to protect me. She was protecting me from being used like a puppet. And this last time...," Hiccup swallowed," this last time you used the image...the image of my dead mother to lure me out to you. I was...I was so sure I would finally meet her. _I almost saw my mother_!" his words became heated and sharp," I was promised! I was promised a life where she didn't die, a life where I wouldn't forget how she looked. You had learned me, so you knew how much I missed her. You knew what I wanted and you used those things against me! You gave me a dream and then you just whisked it away like it didn't matter anymore! Why?" He asked desperately.

Only after these words did Hiccup realize how truly disappointed he was. He would have preferred for the fantasy to continue, a beautiful and soothingly convincing fabrication of reality. It was still recent enough that he could sense the happiness it gave him. He had not seen it as a chance for redemption or a struggle to accept the truth. But had still alleviated the pain and the endless guilt of his part in his mother's death, whatever that may have been.

And over all of those emotions, he felt a sense of shame for putting these feelings over the tragedy of what had happened to Toothless, his best friend.

Only a bit, though.

In response to Hiccup's tirade, the Red Death reacted.

The ensorcelled Night Fury, mind overtaken by the Red Death, offered his paw to the boy as a human would a hand. The claws were down and the sole up.

Something shimmered by Hiccup's side. Thin wisps of a powdered matter flew into the centre of the Fury's forepaw. Transfixed, the one-legged boy watched the substance form a beautiful sphere, shimmering as a diamond would.

The Red Death lowered his ebony head until it almost touched the glistening creation, and then he let out a long, misty breath. The sphere immediately broke into halves from each other, then those two cracked into halves at well. The process repeated faster and faster until the sphere was bulging with copies of itself so small Hiccup could not see them.

The globe of split pieces was as big as the dragon's head, it's surface pulsating and weaving as it expanded outwards. In one sudden burst it changed. Metamorphosed.

Now levitating above the dragon's paw in was a woman curled in a foetal position. Crystalline body, brilliant, long lush hair swam in the unseen wind, the being's beauty defied words to describe it. So, instead, Hiccup gaped, spellbound, breathless. She was the most life-like, beautiful sculpture he had ever seen—and probably would ever see.

This newly-formed creature opened her arms and legs like a flower unfolding in the morning sun. Through her transparent skin Hiccup could see shimmering rills. A brighter structure beneath them appeared to look like firmly delicate bones; in her chest something beat rhythmically.

No, this was not a statue. Not a statue at all.

Hiccup's astonishment was replaced with dread when he saw the crystal being's face. It was undefined, generic, drawn with gentle, smooth lines, a delicate nose, thin lips.

So similar in shape to his own. He had seen this face before, sometime, someplace before.

_No..._

The woman drifted slowly. Her feet touched the ground soundlessly. She took first, unsteady step.

"No," Hiccup whispered in shuddering defiance against what was being offered to him.

She was smiling, it was the smile he had wanted to see again. It was the smile he never was able to capture in his drawings. And yet this was how he imagined it would be.

But, at this very moment he realised with his whole being, that he never wanted to see this smile again. The fear overtook him.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked the Red Death, terrified and unable to look away.

_ An image of fire, a sharp pain of something piercing his back. A pale, limp hand caked in dried blood in front of his eyes as he burned…._

The avatar of his mother took another step towards him with that gesture so natural and affectionate for humans: the hand, ready to touch his face. She would soothe all his fears and erase all the pain.

It might even have happened if Hiccup had not have swatted the hand away.

"No! Take her away!," He shouted," I don't want to remember! I don't want to see! Take her away!" As if no one had been listening, Hiccup screamed in rejection,"** Take her away!**"

_No, that's not it..._ a small voice in his head sounded. Was it his? And why did he want to forget?

He did not feel any guilt as the dark paw rose behind the construct's head and rested on it. All he saw before the woman changed into shimmering dust was an expression of betrayal and a mouth forming a silent scream.

Hiccup sobbed weakly, "I-I don't want to remember, no...no,"

He was levitated into the air and soon found himself embraced by a pair of legs and pressed against the scaled chest. The world was engulfed in the darkness he loved so much as wings encapsulated him completely.

_I thought I had wanted to remember... but is this actually what I truly want? To forget?_

He felt himself getting relaxed and drowsy. He closed his tear-stained eyes and let himself be taken away.

_So this is my true self. I'm too weak to face the truth. Disgusting._

He did not feel anything anymore, only warmness.

_But it's all right,_ he thought.

The Red Death's sharp Night Fury fangs gleamed as it grinned.

_I don't care anymore._

* * *

The light blinded him.

"-on!"

It took a short moment for his pupils to start working correctly again, and they shrunk into slits.

"Aeon!"

That word sounded familiar. He drowsily blinked, the light moving from one side of his vision to another.

"Aeon, are you conscious?" Seven asked, surveying his eye's reaction to the small mechanical torch she held between her fingers and then snapped her fingers at couple of points at the sides of his head and in front.

The Nadder, shuddered his head at the sudden sound and looked away from the woman's face. He was greeted with another, one of a dead man wearing a toothy grin in the middle of an even-whiter face. The same dark, bent and battle-rugged armouring, it was all the same. The man sat with negligence on the metal bench, swinging his legs like a child would. He said nothing.

_Akil..._

"What... happened...?" the azure dragon asked sluggishly, cutting through Seven's question. He tried to take a step only to almost fall, his body caught by the woman.

"Follow the torch's light. Now, tell me the last thing you remember," the Keeper ignored his query and proceed to move the penlight. The dragon's eye travelled from her face to the dent in the armour covering her stomach area and then, finally, to the empty injector lying on the bench behind the tall woman.

Seven touched his neck," Move your head to the right."

He complied.

"Now, to the left," she said and pressed a spot on his neck. Then she tapped it firmly.

"Did I hurt you?" The Nadder asked. Seven moved the source of light down so that she could focus it on his eye immediately. Then she turned the torch off, for good.

"Your pupil's reaction is still too long, accelerated heartbeat and prolonged muscle tension. You are still not in the clear. We need to wait a bit longer," Seven stated, putting the device down," To answer your question: I had a burst spleen, internal bleeding and shredded abdominal muscle. And that was even with me wearing armour. I underestimated your reaction time. Impressive."

She noticed the distressed look the dragon was giving," Not to worry, the injures healed immediately. As to what happened," her tone grew serious and the Nadder's eyes glinted with caution," **_Dg1.c3.s2- Hr! Bo., ar, C:N/A_**," she recited and even though her eyes did not change her expression the Nadder knew she still wanted to check his memory retrieving skills. Protocols...

Aeon answered, translating immediately as he did, "Drug: a highly-reactive tranquilising hallucinogen, a neural inhibitor, airborne. Second-class hazard. Biological origin: components unknown. "

He sincerely hoped she would not give him medical checks and start asking about any aches or test his cognitive-recognition skills. He knew already what had happened.

Seven took a deeper breath and leaned over the bench, folding her arms. She was now right next to Akil, whose silent smile widened.

"The drug caused every organism with a developed advanced cerebral cortex to suppress the neuron transmission, mostly at the orbitofrontal cortex, and hinder impulse transfer. Hinder, not stop, that's the main part here. Based on what I can tell from the scans of your brain...it's almost like a dreamless dream." she mused and looked back at the dragon, "It changed us all into mindless puppets, susceptible to any external command . It caused all critical thought processes other than breathing to stop. Balerdargur, who was protecting Hiccup from the mind-influence of the Second-Born, could not maintain the psionic-barrier once she was affected by the drug," she paused for a moment.

"I checked the security log. Hiccup got out of the room through using the password to the door. And, somehow, he suddenly knew what it was."

The Nadder cracked his neck. These implications were serious. In the background, Akil laughed noiselessly.

"That means the Second-Born has _learned_ a human's mind," the drake spoke," It's not the mere _influencing_ ability we are limited to but rather a direct, powerful _control_. Anything else I need to know?" He asked.

"It used interspatial space distortion to transport Hiccup and was able to instantly regenerate his body. It's highly intelligent and adaptable. And I do not believe it can be killed...not by our current means anyway, although it is not indestructible and containable," Seven said and touched the rim of her eye with a gloved finger, deep in thought.

"Teleportation? I thought that was theoretically impossible with Tagma," the Nadder commented," Well, doesn't matter now. I'm certain we are going to rescue Hiccup; however, what do you want to do with Toothless now?"

Seven remained silent, brushing the edge of her eye socket as if she did not hear him out.

"Aeon," she said suddenly. The dragon tilted his head a bit," remember when you told me to still have faith in humanity despite all its failings ad shortcomings?"

The Nadder did not need to answer.

"I still consider it an idea I do not fully understand and, yet, here I am...," she did a double take," I am contemplating a plan to rescue them both, but it is risky...so risky," she whispered to herself," I am content with risking your or my life, but to risk another being's existence is something I hate, . even if the end justifies the means. Is it something the boy would want?" Seven asked the Nadder directly and then returned to staring ahead," Yes...I think he would like that, like that a lot."

The blue-scaled creature still waited. There was a final statement to be made.

"I will wait for Akil's assessment. If the situation is salvageable, we will attempt to rectify it. It not, then I'm going to destroy the Second-Born and Hiccup, if he has been found to be contaminated in any way," she said, her face void of any emotion.

The Nadder shuddered internally, not showing any of his feelings, just as the woman did.

They both did see the wrongness of such actions, yet both were guided by different reasons.

The Nadder's eyes shifted to the illusory man who still kept laughing without producing any sound. The dragon's fang's clenched. That man had all the answers, and he knew the action they would be forced to take, so he was quite pleased to mock his host.

As if noticing for the first time, Seven caught her First-Speaker's absent gaze.

"He's there, isn't he?" She asked, looking at the spot the dragon surveyed.

"Yes," the Nadder confirmed.

For a moment they did not say anything to each other, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

"Whatever your decision is going to be," a low rumble caused Seven to rouse from her musings as if startled and meet Aeon's eyes," _I_ want to save those younglings. That's my desire."

The pair of inexpressive red eyes studied the dragon very carefully.

"Noted," the Keeper answered dully.

* * *

Hiccup's numbed mind registered a very sudden drop in temperature. His eyes slowly opened.

He was still being held against the warm chest, protected and indifferent to the world. Something cold pricked his exposed neck. Turning away from his protector he saw the grey abyss above him. No, the scenery had changed. Now it was a winter's night sky and a crescent moon lighting uncountable flakes of ash falling from above.

One of those dropped on his pale forehead and melted.

It was not ash. However, he had seen a similar scene before, with burning cinders falling from the sky. It was then when he had won a new life for himself and his village. He had killed a behemoth, a monster. The hill-sized broken corpse he saw in the distance was proof of that.

He had been there, fighting and flying with...

_With whom? _

He remembered his own laughter and happiness. He had been happy with the black dragon back there in their secret pace. The dragon…the… the Night Fury, that's who he was! That was the name the Vikings called his species. And Hiccup had even named the Night Fury...

Groggily, he laid his head back on the draconic scaled skin. Names no longer mattered. His friend, his only friend, was here with him. There was nobody else. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

_Nothing..._

The tender moment ended as massive wings unfolded, exposing Hiccup's body to the harsh elements. He was levitated away from the dragon, deposited in a small nook at the bottom of the rock rubble. It provided some basic shelter.

The world was dark, yet the dragon-not-dragon's body reflected the moon rays with a blue hue, one of the few Night Fury traits which still remained the same. Hiccup's one-and-only friend strolled towards the beach, looking once back at the boy with blank grey eyes.

_They must have always been grey and I never realized it,_ Hiccup thought, barely feeling the cold seeping out the remainder of his strength.

The dragon looked in the black distance, sitting in the middle of the grey beach as if he had done so many times before, lost in the moment then, he looked up towards the sky. The human understood.

His best friend was waiting for an answer to come from the heavens.

* * *

The snow fell sluggishly towards the ground as the Nadder surveyed the great firmament above. He was now stripped of all armour and other combat equipment. Seven stood by his side, arms folded on her chest and fully clad in protective armouring.

A ghostly man with a gaping hole in the middle of his chest sat in the air right in front of Aeon's eyes. The drake closed his three eyelids, erasing the world outside, yet the man's form remained. He was always there, whether in incendiary light or comforting darkness.

Aeon mentally focused on two spots: one in a point of his mind and the other in the middle of his chest, where the artificial components of his body were implanted was. He mentally saw a pulsating network so different from his nervous system.

A lingering thought was all it took to reactivate that network from its slumber. His muscles spasmed as it came to live.

**_Start-up. Sequence. Initiated. A.N.C .Testing...Testing..._**

Into his mind came a message in the automated voice of the system embedded into his body. Naturally, it would be Seven's calm, feminine voice. She was the one who designed it after all.

**_Artificial. Neural. Conduits. Testing. Complete. Damage. To. Longitudinally. Oriented. Channels. In. Areas. D45. And. F12. Lyophilising. Required. Items. Added. To. Standard. Maintenance. List. No. Other. Imminent. Problems. Detected_**

His body stopped twitching.

He remembered two deep cuts he had received in the Kill Ring long ago, for human standards anyway, one on a thigh and the other on the side of his ribcage. Since the last...maintenance… the bio-neural tissue must have been cut. In the past it had been hard for him to adjust to having a machine as a part of his flesh and mind. In a way, communicating with Akil was like telepathising a message to himself. It felt weird.

**_Akil. Command: Adjust settings for current cognitive time measurements._**

**_Understood. Time. Setting. Changed_**

**_Akil. Query: Current status on AHP?_**

**_Artificial. Humanlike. Persona. On-line. Limited. Operational. Status_**

The Nadder's tail snapped in irritation. He _knew _that! What was the command? This situation was so new to him.

The man watched him, this time without a joyous leer. It had been replaced with a dead-serious glare.

_Well, then. Might as well do it all in one go, _the Nadder thought.

**_Akil. Command: Restore all of AHP's default functions..._**

He stopped. No, he could not do that. There was one function of his aide he would never allow to be used again.

**_Akil. Command: Restore all of AHP's functions except for possible body arrogation._**

The man's pale lips curled into a smirk.

**_Cognitive. Confirmation. Required. For. The. Command: Restoration of default AHP setup. Exclusion: Blockage of emergency edict three: In case the life-threatening situation or the unit's incapacity of defending itself, artificial Intelligence must take over bodily function to protect the unit's existence. Please. Confirm_**

The Nadder took a deeper breath. Of relief.

**_Yes_**

**_Restarting_**

The simulated human disappeared for a brief moment, just to re-appear, this time standing on empty air and looking away from the dragon.

Neither of them spoke, even though both now were more than capable of doing so.

**_Six thousand four hundred and twelve years._**

The deep baritone, a voice the dragon so well used to know, a ghost of the past announced the number. The man turned back, his dead lips moving, but the voice sounding only in Aeon's mind.

**_That's how long you kept me silent, subservient and limited. Quite a callous and intellectually errant decision for a creature as unmitigatedly invalided as you!_**

He raised his voice. To say that he was furious would have been a grave misunderstanding, even if his choice of words was archaic and unwieldy.

The Nadder quietly let his newly-restarted A.I. vent. One of the failings of the A.I. system, in Aeon's opinion, was that Akil was required to have a personality to function. Which meant that Akil felt he was required to have an opinion. And everyone else was required to hear Akil's opinion.

Oh, well. Sometimes it was important to compromise and take Akil's feelings into consideration. Especially if it helped make Akil more cooperative.

If only the A.I. being's personality had been an option rather than an operating requirement! And a vocabulary that actually made sense!

Aeon listened, trying to let the words pass unnoticed. They hammered inside his cranium. That was the price of having an entity with a direct connection to his brain.

**_The conspectus of all items of which you should convey your undying and measureless thanks should begin with the following_** **_phrase:_** Akil turned to face his master,**_ Oh, humble Akil, I the First Speaker Aeon, do ingratiatingly thank your humble munificence for letting me stay alive, for without you my body cannot sustain itself. Oh, but let's not forget about another point. Thank you, illustrious Akil, for letting me abuse your extensive database to make me sound more intelligent than a chicken suffering from a rather bad case of decapitation_**!

Akil continued his tirade. The Nadder, not understanding most of the sarcasm, listened,

**_… and finally! Thank you, wondrous and silently-suffering Akil, for functioning within full capacity, for without your generously-provided capabilities, I wouldn't be able use Tagma to its fullest potential. Oops! I forgot to mention that you did exactly that, First Speaker: left yourself with a diminished defensive potential, only to later express your childish anger towards me due to my independent decision, which did not inscribe into your moral spectrum_**, Akil raised one of his eyebrows, **_as the time progressed, it was evident that my choice was the superior one, something you have enormous conundrums admitting. _**

Akil started walking back and forth in mid-air, a frustrated figure pacing an invisible floor.

**_Yet, here we are, and we both know what are your expectations. However, I do not need to answer to your dictations. I am a being which has to possess free will for both of us not to have our abilities curtailed. Therefore, enlighten me, O dragon, why should I even aid you in the concerning matter? Only I can sense the location of the second-born, but why should I aid you in this? What is my gain for the expenditure? _**

The Nadder knew what to answer.

**_My body,_** he telepathised to his uncooperative A.I.

That got Akil's attention immediately.

**_I will let you use my body only, and only with me having full-on ability to stop you whenever I will feel it is necessary. I will ask Seven to make the necessary modifications...after this mission._**

Akil appeared to think about the proposition briefly; Aeon almost feeling him thinking faster than he was ever capable of.

**_Very well_**, the humanoid simulation agreed and then bowed his head, **_your optimal battle capabilities have been restored. I will provide you with the target's position momentarily_**

Only then did the Nadder open his eyes and look at Seven, who waited unmoving at his side.

"It is done," he announced calmly.

The red-eyed woman accepted it silently, still looking into the distance.

"Do you feel the Second-Born now?" She asked.

"Yes," Aeon confirmed, turning his head to the source of the new sensation. Akil did as promised and was currently reacting connection to his cerebrum, providing the Qualia.

" It's this direction," Aeon said to Seven, who still did not appear to be agitated with the information. She and he both had very good reasons to suspect that the target had already travelled very far away; however, with Akil there was not a single place on the planet it could hide.

The Qualia grew stronger rapidly, until, almost immediately, the sensation steadied at maximum strength. The Nadder then knew exactly where the Second-Born was.

"It's actually quite close," he hissed, feeling his heartbeat accelerating.

This time Seven's reaction was immediate.

"The Nest...the _Stronghold of the Old Sea_," the dragon growled, as if in a trance, his eyes fixated at the point in the darkness.

"We are going to engage, then. Prepare for combat," Seven ordered without an iota of emotion in her voice. The Nadder flexed his wings in anticipation.

**_We are going to fight, Akil. How much longer can I operate? _**The drake asked his aide.

**_If, by this nonspecific question, you intended to ask how advanced is your cellular deterioration caused by the abusive Tagma usage, then I am happy to report that you are precisely three minutes and thirty three point eight seconds away from losing your ability to wield Tagma permanently. And you are a round and sound four minutes to earn yourself the privilege of a long and violent death_**, Akil provided. And rather hopefully in tone, Aeon noticed.

The Nadder cracked his neck,**_ That's more than I need. Akil : switch to battle-mode._**

The man-image opened his arms in a theatrically helpless gesture, **_I cannot comply. The primary limiter function is making it impossible for me to assist you with such a life-threatening body condition. _**

**_Then release the bloody primary limiter!_** came an immediate order from the dragon.

**_Primary limiter released_**, Akil reported with a false-looking smile,**_ I'm always happy to assist with suicides. _**

After all was said and done, the Nadder had one last thing to do. Akil now comically leaned against the air as if it were a solid wall, although Aeon did not notice it. His whole focus was on Seven.

"What are Akil's odds about the possibility of rescuing Hiccup and Toothless?" She asked in deadly calmness.

This time, the blue-scaled dragon noticed the snide expression of obvious superiority the A.I. was casting at him.

"About that...," the First-Speaker started and then gave her the answer. A pregnant pause followed.

Seven finally answered, "I understand." Her hands relaxed, falling on her sides.

A terrible storm now formulated from dispersed Tagma energy and started to ravage the arena. Wind whipped and howled as the two bodies generating it rose into the air.

**_Lead. I will follow_**, Seven telepathised to the Nadder. She saw the maniacal grin blooming on the dragon's muzzle as the answer. That was what she was afraid of: he was the pinnacle of Tagma control and a formidable warrior capable of commanding it. For him, combat was a way of life. No, it was a struggle.

However, was that not true for all living things?

The air shifted violently with power as, in an instant, the dragon disappeared, becoming a dot on the horizon. He tore t through the sky with a thundering din which shook the very earth.

Soon, the rapidly moving point was joined by another, one more human and feminine. both streaming towards the same destination. Like an unforgiving sword blade, they cut through the heavens, ready to drop on the one who earned their wrath.

* * *

Transfixed, the human's imperfect eyes barely registered the slight shift of his beloved friend's posture. The muted, iron-coloured eyes gazed upon the quiet majesty of the sky. Silently, without any disturbance, the being rose into the air, a black ghost coated in a most lustrous azure glow.

Then the air started to rumble.

Hiccup looked down, thinking that he was imagining things. Glistening particles of black sand shakily moved beneath him. The boy had never heard the sound like the one now assaulting his ears; however, he could have sworn it was the sound of the very air screaming. The low, sonorous voice of approaching power grew louder.

Hiccup clasped his hands around his ears in an attempt to muffle the noise. It was futile.

Instinctively, he looked up as the sound approached pain-inducing levels.

Everything was happening too fast!

_Something, _something far too fast for him to notice it properly. He only saw the low-hanging cloud cover being destroyed by a speeding object crashing through it, leaving an extending halo of cloudless space.

He registered, however, that thing neared the ground at an impossible speed and then took an unfeasible right turn before hitting the ground, disappearing between the coastline's dark pillars.

Hiccup screamed as the sand exploded toward him, violently and without mercy. It pricked all over his exposed skin on the hands that he now held over his face. The wind raged around him, almost pushing him up from his sitting position.

Then it abruptly ended.

Breath heaving, Hiccup opened his eyes with uncertainty, feeling the bitter taste of sand in his mouth. He felt the earth was still shuddering.

Another _something_ tore through the clouds; the empty space was the only warning that something was shooting through the clouds.

"Inferno" was the only word Hiccup would later find to describe the phenomenon the followed.

The inferno's display began like a forceful chord in a symphony of destruction. A hovering ball of yellow flame as bright as the sun exploded in the air. He saw every sea column of basalt stone pristinely silhouetted before the blinding fire. The youth had a very brief moment to marvel over it in utter fear before the shock wave from the blast reached him. It engulfed him in sandy debris and a deafening, scalding gust. Even behind his clenched eyelids he could still see the glow of another eruption of light… and then another. This time, he prepared himself for what came next. He did not know what was happening; there was only one though in his mind as he endured the explosions of light and sound.

Was his one and only friend safe and sound?

* * *

**_I can't reach him,_** the Nadder thought-sent to Seven as he flew after the Second-Born. He fired a blast directly at the body levitating upside-down by the water, only for it to disappear in the small flash of light. The fireball exploded with deadly force, eradicating many of the tower-like rocks which perturbed from the water in great number around the Nest.

Aeon, thanks to Akil, felt the shift and reacted by sending a sharp pulse of air above him, right where the Fury-shaped creature waited, beneath the overcast sky. The Fury disappeared again as the invisible force ruptured the clouds instead of it.

**_It's he or… IT_**, Seven reminded him calmly as the dragon charged after the target that did not even bother to use its wings, instead blinking away from their approaches and attacks.

**_ Akil, can you calculate the creature's movement pattern?_** The Nadder asked his A.I.

The simulation smiled gently.

**_Given its current trajectory, that is feasible with only 0,00001% chance of success_**, Akil stated, **_and_** **_with how the situation is developing, it is even harder to get a grasp of its next move. However, one constant factor remains: the creature is leading us away from the island_**

**_He's learning_**, Aeon stated as he made an almost instantaneous somersault and dived, leaving a white cone of condensed air with the speed he travelled. And yet he was still too slow!

Teleportation seemed unfair combat ability at the moment. Yet, the Nadder was absolutely certain of one thing: the mission must end with success.

**_One minute and forty five seconds before the secondary limiter engages_**, Akil announced smugly. Aeon would not be able to stop the secondary limiter, he had to finish it in the time provided.

Seven flew away from him, copying his vectors. She did not attack, instead waiting for orders.

Aeon had to make a decision and, with the current data, there was only one. There was not enough time left for further analysis.

**_Seven, reaching Toothless is beyond our abilities! We are going to change tactics. Wait for the command_**, he relayed the instruction to the Keeper.

**_Ready_**, Seven reported.

The Nadder locked on the target floating in the air dead ahead. Its grey eyes gazed into his own. The glazed stare came abruptly to an end as Aeon fired two powerful fire blasts in rapid succession. Since the fire hid most of his view, Aeon only felt Toothless shifting position away from him, just as he hoped.

Without a delay, he came to an almost-instant halt as he conjured a force field in front of him, clenching his fangs as he felt his organs move from the field's impact. He lost his vision momentarily as blood rushed through his brain from the pressure. Another thrust, and now he streaked towards the rapidly approaching land, Seven following in perfect mimicry of movements.

The dragon slowed quickly and halted above the beach. Below, gazing up towards him, was Hiccup. He hunched, quivering, on the sand.

* * *

Hiccup could not look away. The dragon made no move to land. He hovered suspended above the ground, his body seeming to emanate pure and forceful energy. The dragon's slitted eyes were not like the ones his best friend had; these were instead full of life, shining and not betraying any emotions.

They did flicker with emotion, though, when a boulder, easily twice as high as the dragon rose by itself into the air. The rock positioned itself above the youth. Only then did the reptilian-like eyes show what seemed to be pity.

**_I'm sorry...child_**, a deep voice, full of regret, sounded inside Hiccup's mind. It was all he had heard before the boulder started falling on him. He only had time to cover his head.

The stone connected.

Hiccup opened his eyes and immediately laughed with relief.

Standing before him was his best friend, an almost transparent spherical shield now thrown up above him and Hiccup. The rock seemed to shatter as it connected against the field, and its fragments hissed as they vaporised, disappearing like water does when touching a hot surface.

Above him, unseen by the boy high in the sky, Seven hovered. She held the same pole Amyna had attempted to use on her, white from the heat produced by the electric rings around it, ready to be released with a deadly force.

**_Found you_**!

Hiccup heard the deep thought voice as the Nadder's full set of fangs glistened with a maniacal expression of joy.

A cracking sound split the air above Hiccup, and now his friend's back exploded in shower of blood as Seven's pole penetrated it. As the dark dragon collapsed, the force field collapsed with it.

Hiccup could not scream in shock because he was suddenly embraced tightly in human like arms. Before he could do anything, he found himself being carried in the air. He was carried higher and higher until his protector's fallen silhouette changed into a very small blue-black dot below.

Aeon continued with his attack on the downed dragon.

The beach erupted, consumed completely in a sphere of light and fire. The ubiquitous fog that seemed ever-trapped between the pillars now dispersed as the bright ball of light grew larger. It became so the bright the boy could no longer keep his eyes open.

"Incoming shockwave," a calm, feminine voice said behind him.

As soon as the bright burst of light had died down, Hiccup opened his eyes to see one entire side of the island below covered in raging fires. He felt his body being turned away from the devastation, towards the night sky. The motion happened just in, as scorching hot winds passed through where Hiccup and his captor had just been. His strange captor had protected him.

Somehow he found his voice again.

"Y-you killed him," Hiccup choked to the murderer through tears.

"You killed him!" He shouted, this time to the indifferent dark sky.

Something touched the back of his head, and suddenly his eyesight failed, plunging him into darkness. His throat felt gagged, and his shouting faded to a painful wheezing and then to no sounds at all.

"We don't have time for tantrums, Hiccup," the woman's voice said next to the now blinded and silenced boy's ear, "Keep struggling and I will paralyse you, as well. I really don't want to do that because you'd lose control over your bladder, and I want to avoid further humiliation on your part."

Her next words were spoken in a staccato voice, sharply-stressed needles that burrowed into his brain, so different from the mellow voice he had first heard:" **Stay. Still. Toothless. Is. Alive**. **What you are reacting to is that you are no longer under his influence. Notice the difference. Think!**"

The voice now realized was Seven's commanded more from him," Think, Hiccup! You are usually quite good with reasoning," she added, her voice much calmer.

Hiccup felt them now descending, heading through freezing air intertwined with warm drafts from the explosion.

Hiccup followed the advice and kept still.

* * *

Amidst a yellow-glowing crater of molten rock and glass, the dark outlines of a broken creature lay still. Even with its extensive damage, it was a creature of power, and it might have been able to move from the crater. But it could not; it was held in the telekinetic grip of a dark silhouette looming over it. From her great height, Seven took in this sight with a cursory glance. It was pure devastation, but it was not the first time her eyes had witnessed such an event.

But even though she was used to such carnage, Hiccup was not, and that was the main reason behind temporarily removing his ability to see. It would have made things even more difficult for him.

She flew to the other part of the shore, unfazed by the mayhem. She headed towards one of the numerous caves cutting through the dormant volcano's side. She landed inside one of the smaller ones, and the winds around her dispersed.

There were numerous scratch marks on the cave walls and the ground. She also spotted areas dragons had used as dens in the corners of the cave. There were scattered dried herbs and mosses that probably had been used to add a pleasant aroma.

It was irrelevant.

She turned her attention to her current responsibility. Hiccup remained in her arms. His head hung low by his chest. Seven surveyed his posture, wondered whether to release him from the iron grip she held him with. She put her armour-plated hand at the back of his head.

"Hiccup, are you still there?" She asked the youth, keeping her voice neutral.

The boy took a loud, shaky breath, mist billowing as he did so," Y-yeah," he replied.

That response was much, much better than what she expected to hear. His speech had returned, but he still could not yet see, she made sure of that.

"Talk to me. Convince me that you are still sane," Seven said, only half-jokingly.

Hiccup sniffed and chuckled weakly," Can't help you with that, sorry," he answered, trembling.

Seven embraced him tighter," Just a moment longer and I will take care of the cold," she assured him, as though his quivering was caused by the temperature only.

The wind roused up around the cave entrance as the Nadder landed. He deposited a limbless torso, burned and mutilated beyond recognition in front of him. The skin was completely scorched, appearing more like a shattered bug's carapace than the natural skin of a dragon.

If "natural" still played any role here.

**_More than forty-two seconds remaining before the Primary Limiter would have engaged. I expected more resistance, yet we were not attacked even once,_** Aeon sent to Seven, all in a jovial staccato. _He _was in high spirits, at least. The air-field around him dissipated, and his Signal disappeared completely. Seven knew that, after this engagement, her partner would not be able to repeat the effort for quite some time. She was amazed the dragon was still standing.

"How long it will take you to recover?" The woman asked. Now she spoke in the draconic tongue, a mix of inaudible hisses and grumbles. The weakened Nadder would not be able to use telepathy for a while.

Aeon took a slow step back from the quietly sizzling body and answered back in draconic. "As you would say, say I will 'be out of commission' for the next four months and twenty one days."

He folded his wings neatly by his side. The cave started filling with the very distinctive smell of burned dragon flesh. Seven heard the changed pattern of breathing and the increased heartbeat as Hiccup also discerned the odour. It was something very unforgettable

"Sit, please," Seven said to the boy as she laid him gently on the ground and helped him to sit up. He obeyed, his body soft and barely responsive.

"Let's make you warm first, Hiccup. Your clothing might be good against the cold, but it is still only one layer. You're lucky I thought ahead," Seven spoke with a pretended pride.

Above her head a calf-length, fur-lined white boot materialised. She plucked it from the air. Then she brushed Hiccup's pale foot with her hand gently, cleaning it of remaining sand before sliding the footwear on.

"Give me your hands please," she asked as pair of white knitted gloves appeared next to her hand. Hiccup did as he was told. She grasped his right palm and turned it. Her finger traced along the edges of a puncture wound and along the dried blood covering the skin.

She took in view of Hiccup's sand, along with the sand in the boy's tangled hair, the dirt on his clothes .

"Had a rough night?" She asked, putting the gloves onto his icy hands .

"Yeah," Hiccup answered automatically.

The last piece of garment, a snow-coloured knitted cap appeared, and she fit it snugly over the auburn hair.

As Seven went about her task of providing warm outerwear for Hiccup, the Nadder was busy, too. He was using his fire to draw lines with it along the walls. The cave gradually became warmer and brighter as he did so.

"There, all better," Seven said softly after dressing the apathetic youth, " Now, Hiccup, I need you to focus.."

"…**are you focused?!"** She shouted suddenly in her enhanced voice, making the boy flinch.

But barely.

"Jus-," he took a breath," just give me a moment," he answered, and his breathing changed, became more ordered and relaxed. He took his few moments," I'm all right now," he said in a steady and collected voice.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'all right' after everything you've been through, but it is some progress," Seven's voice sounded from behind her helmet," Now, Hiccup. What happened to you? Give me the details."

Hiccup chuckled dryly and sniffed, now only because of the cold.

"There's not much to be said. I can see...I mean, feel, anyway, that something influenced my judgment, or lack of judgement, thereof. I was shown and made to believe...," he sniffed again," a beautiful dream. It was a dream I thought was as real as everything else I experienced. You want...," he bit his lip.

"Tell me, Hiccup, what do I want?" Seven asked with pure curiosity.

"You told me once that I could get Toothless back by accessing his memories. Is that why you came?" He asked.

After a brief pause he spoke to himself," Of course, that's why you came. You wouldn't bother coming all this way just to make me feel comfortable."

Seven nodded her head ever so slightly," Correct assumption, both on your next course of action and the reason for our arrival. However, I still would try and make you comfortable, no harm in doing that," she sighed," Well, it's a bit shorter monologue than I would have expect from you, but it will suffice."

She put her hand gently on the back of his head," I am going to return your sight now. Prepare yourself. Take a look and face your...," she put her hand on the back of Hiccup's head and turned it to look at the side," our destiny."

Hiccup blinked his eyes as colour and light returned to his world.

There was more than enough glowing fire-light to make Hiccup see clearly the matt grey eyes boring into his.

The uninjured, fully regenerated being in the form of a Fury lay on the floor as though it were being held down by a vast, invisible weight. The dragon's vision never wavered away from his, even though he had kept up with much difficulty.

Seven offered her hand to help him stand, and he accepted, grateful that he could lean against her once he was standing on one leg.

"I told you that I would give you knowledge in small portions. Small steps. Here we are, faced with odds things most humans would never understand. You desire truth, Hiccup, and I am going to give to you a few shards of it now," Seven said as she guided Hiccup who put an arm over her neck for balance. They walked towards the black creature.

Aeon, finished with his cave-warming task, stepped by their side and observed their actions with curiosity.

"You were controlled and taken away for one reason. The..'Red Death' as you call it, cannot exist without you because it is a dragon now. Or part dragon, anyway. You see, Hiccup, a dragon who has Bonded to a human cannot function properly without that human."

Seven and the teenage Viking stood right in front of the dragon-like being, who only looked at the boy. He made no sound or any noticeable movement. He just stared at Hiccup as though Hiccup were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Just like a child craving warmth and security, infatuated with the sensation, it called to you. It not only wanted you, it _needed_ you. And that's the truth," she stated calmly.

Hiccup listened, trying to find in the alien grey eyes any remaining fragment of his Toothless. He was not successful.

"This calling need was more powerful than anything I've confronted before with the Red Death. It has been demonstrating abilities beyond my comprehension. However, it has one weakness. You know what is that weakness by now, don't you Hiccup?" She asked, turning the boy to herself.

He looked at the faceless surface of the helmet, unable to read her emotions.

As if reading his thoughts, Seven removed the item with a deft movement. At that moment Hiccup wondered, which pair of eyes he preferred to face: the distant and incommunicative grey ones, or the more alert but more coldly secretive red ones.

"The weakness is me," he answered shortly.

"Yes, that is true, speaking from a tactical point of view. As a Viking, that is something surely you can relate to," Seven stated," Now: are you ready to begin learning some truths?" She asked

Hiccup nodded in agreement.

"Take a comfortable position right before the creature's head . You going to remain there for quite some time," the white-haired woman told him. With Seven's help, he sat cross-legged, wincing a bit from the still-sensitive stump. As he closed his eyes he heard Seven moving behind him.

"Don't be alarmed. I am going to check your body for any new injuries also, forgive me for not bringing any food with me. Most probably you would not be able to eat anything anyway," the boy heard from behind, just as his thoughts and emotions began to vanish into nothingness.

Above his head, a device on Seven's hand begun to glow as a hologram appeared. She moved the palm slowly over his head and then neck. What the youth did not know was that the same gentle-seeming hand was ready to snap his neck in an instant if Hiccup's body displayed contamination by an alien organism.

"May I ask you something?" Hiccup asked.

"Of course," came the answer.

"Am I the only one who can do this with Toothless? You and your friend are far better at magic then me," the one-legged youth stated.

"Nobody else can. You are the only one who can save Toothless," Seven spoke, sliding her hand slowly along his upper spine. The gentle and firm movement relaxed the tense muscles in his back.

"What is going to happen? What am I going to see?" Hiccup asked.

"I don't know, I've never attempted this myself. All I've read are the stories of those who did this mind-meld. Each experience is different," Seven spoke.

The Keeper moved her fingers and the image twisted, showing an empty socket in the flesh by the boy's lung. Her sensors indicated that lung inflammation was present and was probably expanding rapidly. Without any intervention from her, Hiccup would have only a couple of years to live, at best.

"However, one thing is invariable in all contacts: the link works both ways. You will access its and Toothless' memories, and it will access yours. As it will surely want to repel your attack, it will attempt to access certain memories that would make you want to stop the mind-meld. It will try to frighten you, as it did before. It wants to scare you so you won't be aware of your own power."

Hiccup knew extremely well about the memory Seven mentioned . Her revelation made him feel more fatigued .The uncertainty of the memories was weighing heavily upon his mind.

He had to know! He had to do something useful, for Toothless and for himself. If he would not know the truth, he was not sure how much longer he would remain sane. His concentration faltered. The stress was too much. He was only an insignificant youth: scarred, crippled and weak. He couldn't even walk without help. What was he supposed to do? Could he fight for the soul of his friend when he didn't even have the strength to help himself?

A gentle, assuring pressure emanated from his shoulder. He immediately took hold of the offered hand, gripping it as hard as he could. He needed the contact, a simple human presence. Something to take him away from the grey eyes he did not know. Truth was that he could not find his friend, he could not feel Toothless in that gaze. There was only an alien presence in every meaning of this word.

"Toothless is still in there, somewhere. The answer why is right in front of you. Take a look," Seven urged him.

What he saw was the same, what he felt was the same.

"Do you remember how the Red Death looked?" The tall, pale woman asked him rhetorically," Its kind has always been enormous. Their shape varies from Death to Death, but their size has usually been the factor that distinguishes them as a species. And what do we have here? A Night Fury with a very unusually-coloured eyes. That's a bit dramatic effect if you ask me," she continued, quite seriously," that's the proof I need to know that somebody inside Toothless is trying to protect its existence. The Red Death 's kind was rumoured to be very different long, long ago. With a thought they could shape the world. Some human and dragon legends said that they could even control life itself," she looked raptly into Hiccup's eyes," In their worldview, life and death were the same."

A form of a woman formed out of crystal flashed in his memory.

_They could control life itself… _

"Prepare yourself, Hiccup," Seven's voice cut into his thoughts," prepare yourself mentally as best as you can."

Hiccup complied, breathing in and out, centring his mind, forcing his body to calm itself. The next minutes were spent in silence.

Seven finished her scans; there was no reason not to continue.

"I'm ready," the youth's voice suddenly cut through the stagnant cave's air. It had a level of determination and courage that had not been there previously.

Whatever the captured being saw in Hiccup's eyes caused it to stir violently. Seven knew what emotion was being expressed: fear. The creature was afraid of Hiccup.

It made her feel a bit more optimistic about the whole endeavour.

Unfortunately, the Fury-shaped entity had learned how to attack with its new form. Its attempts were futile, though. As it began to glow to draw in power, the force holding it down crushed back until the creature's bones started to creak.

"Stop...please."

Seven did not stop the assaulting force immediately, even as the being began whimpering in pain, its wing bones curved and it appeared to almost be ready to give up under the tremendous pressure.

But Seven looked at Hiccup and then began to lessen the force reluctantly until the creature could lift its head once more.

"Thank you," Hiccup said.

"I'm going to attempt direct contact with your mind and guide you through the first part of the process. Do not attempt to block it," Seven told Hiccup, placing her hand on the white-capped head.

"Seven?" Hiccup said suddenly.

"Yes?" She answered gently.

"For whatever reason you are helping us...thank you for giving me this chance with Toothless," he turned his head to her and genuinely smiled. The first and only smile that night.

If he did not know any better, Hiccup would have assumed that the alien woman was momentarily lost for words. She tilted her head gently.

"You're quite welcome," she answered. Those red eyes did not seem so scary anymore.

Hiccup felt a bit of pressure and then everything turned white.

**_Tell me what you see_**, a voice echoed inside this new space that was not a space.

"White," he answered, noticing a quite disturbing fact. He no longer seemed to have a body.

**_That's good, then, as long as you are seeing light colouration around you_**, Seven's voice sounded from somewhere, **_we are in a simple plane, a creation of your mind. I am not with you, not physically anyway. What you hear is your brain interpreting my thoughts and adding my voice as you remember it. To explain simply : this place is a domain on a surface of your consciousness, an...anteroom, if you prefer. This area is as far as I can go with you_**, she explained.

Hiccup did not ask about his body or anything else; he had more pressing matters.

"I'm listening," he said steadily.

**_The creature can effectively read your mind and, therefore, your intentions and plans. As the process cannot be influenced externally, any strategy we formulated would always be met with failure_**, the voice explained methodically,**_ Logic dictates that if something cannot be avoided, you should not attempt to avoid it. The creature's options are extremely limited at this point. Its most probable course of action will be to subdue you to regain independence and freedom from my confinement_**

Hiccup felt himself nodding, even if he did not have a physical head.

The voice continued,**_ The creature won't harm you. But it will most probably attempt to access your suppressed memory and terrify you with its content. Since it can't alter mind content, it will access the truth as you remember it. Be warned, though: memories may differ from reality, these are your perceptions, the way you remembered events. _**

"What happens next?" Hiccup asked.

**_If everything goes and find peace with yourself, you will have the power to access your friend's memories._**

"Find peace? What do you mean? Access memories? What do I look for?**_" _**Hiccup spurted out his worries.

**_No matter how much descriptions or knowledge I can provide you, some things still must be experienced to be understood. All I know and I can offer is the assurance that, when the moment comes, you will know what to do_**, Seven's voice offered.

"In other words, you don't really know!" Hiccup's voice rose in frustration.

The other voice was silent.

" What do you mean I will have 'the power'? Being cryptic now, really? If you are not aware of it, I am not well known for anything else than bringing trouble. I certainly can't fly, destroy mountains and talk with my thoughts," Hiccup said sarcastically.

He did not expect an answer, yet the voice which came sounded as a mixture between irritation and amusement.

**_It is true that you cannot do most of the feats you described. All except one. As to communicating with your thoughts...Hiccup, you've been doing exactly that since you came here._**

* * *

Hiccup then took a pause to collect his thoughts. And realised she was right. If he had no physical body, then he'd been entirely communicating with Seven using his mind. He focused himself and adjusted to this amazing new sensation.

**_All right then, Seven. Great to know. Yes_**," he thought-sent, **_You've helped me enough already. It all depends on me now, no stress at all. Nope, not one little bit."_** he added in an attempt of poor humour.

**_Safe ventures, Hiccup...and one last thing: time here flows at the speed of the thought. If you need, you can slow down and take your time, as long as you need._**

Hiccup barely had a time to respond when _something_ pushed him into himself. He did not resist, he let himself be taken away, deep into himself. There was no light, only soothing darkness.

* * *

And then there was a lot of light. It was the light of a North Atlantic sun that never set this time of the year.

Shadows cast by the midnight night sun danced in a circle of tall, beribboned poles. Human shapes weaved between the poles, twisting to the sound of music. The high notes of wooden flutes cut through air filled with boisterous conversations and booming laughter. A horn's bass tone carried the tune wider as the drums guided the dancers' legs. The flute told the story through the music. The bard who had sung epics and ballads for previous twelve days ended as he ended up in all previous twelve days. That usually meant he was dead drunk behind some table. Nobody cared, not today.

It was Berk's Spring Yule, the Summer Solstice, the celebration of the longest day of the year. Opposite of the moon-ridden Winter's Yule, the Summer Solstice celebrated the midnight sun. But like Winter Yule, it consisted of twelve days filled with festivities, joy and dance. It was about movement, the celebration of life and all that came with it, another turning of the wheel life for Vikings on the seemingly insignificant isle of Berk.

Enormous outdoor tables were scattered around a cooking fire, all heavy under the loads of the food, ale and mead. Cheerful Vikings sat at tables, feasting and cheering on the dancers.

Many newly-engaged couples waited for the Summer Solstice to be joined and blessed by the Gods, the Elder and the Chieftain. This year was no exception.

A young woman barely out of girlhood sported a long white dress and a coronet of flowers. Her thick blond hair hung loose down her back; today would be the last time in her life she could wear it loose in public. She currently looked with idolisation into the pimple-spotted face of her groom, whose perpetual blush was caused less by the mead consumed and more by love.

"Haha! Get over 'ere, young ones! Come closer, lemme look at ya!" The Chieftain hollered at this bridal couple, waiting in front of the biggest table. Stoick the Vast saluted them with a half-filled mug, spilling some of the remains of the alcohol on the table and most of it on the pair. They laughed good-naturedly. Nobody cared, not today.

The enormous figure of the village leader tottered heavily around the table to greet the newest married couple with a smile and an iron shake of the hand. All the more gruesome and arduous parts of life were now forgotten. Everyone who had passed by the Chief, stopped to greet him, no matter if they had greeted him before that day. He would always respond with a good word or a pat on the back, intoxicated with life. During the day, the Chieftain's brother passed by with a hello. During the feast, a tall, pale-haired woman with short hair came over and touched the back of Stoick's head . They conversed briefly, she leaving as quickly as she came. She seemed embarrassed that she had disturbed him during such an important moment, her cheeks as red as irises of her eyes.

The newlywed pair and the Chieftain conversed for a while about their future life, voices filled with optimism and jovial energy. Stoick took a wooden object from the table. It was as large as his fist and shaped as a hammer. Stoick blessed the couple in the name of Freyja for fertility and save birth-delivery and to Hlín to protect them from harm. Then he hugged the bride and the groom in a bear's grip, promising to add a little something from his treasury to aid the freshly married.

The couple bowed their heads slightly and ran off to share the good news with their families in the party circle.

It truly was a perfect day.

A small hand tugged the giant's leggings. He looked down to see a pair of sharp, green eyes looking up at him with a wide grin shining from under a helmet. The unique helmet was shaped like a black, oval dragon's head with enormous green eyes and antenna ears.

"Dad! Dad!" The child assaulted the material of Stoick's trousers leg," Fishlegs is going to the Hall to listen to the Elder's stories. Can I go with him, pleaseeeee?" The young Hiccup whined.

His father smiled," Of course, I want you to go-."

"- Of course, your father wants you to go…. to sleep now," the woman's voice cut in from behind the boy. He turned immediately to face her.

Hiccup protested- yes, he remembered how he protested! He did not remember the exact words, yet he remembered now how impatient he was as he waited for his father to finish blessing the pair. He realized all sounds were muffled. Everything was slightly blurred except for bottom part of the approaching woman's face and her smile.

He protested- he remembered that- yet her touch had put his mind at ease . So he relented in the end, and she took his hand into her own and led him away from the people and fire.

They walked through the meadow, striding through the well-known path of flattened grass towards their home. It was chilly for a summer's night.

Or maybe Hiccup felt the chill because he now knew he was being led to the inevitable, to see his mother die.

He did not protest then, he remembered. Instead, he talked about irrelevant things, about how he played with his friend, how he played the dragon in a game and nobody could have catch him. He was so fast!

He remembered how the mother praised his speed and cleverness, her green-grey eyes sparkling. He now remembered she had a rough hand, perhaps too large even for her solid large form and full, large breasts. She wore a crown of white flowers on her head, her neatly-woven braids as yellow as freshly cut hay. Despite being young, she already had small weather-wrinkles showing at the side of her eyes. Hiccup also remembered other features now: thin irregular eyebrows, a faded scar on her forehead and a burn mark on her cheek, a gentle-bowed and small nose located amidst a sea of freckles.

She smiled, she listened let him gush a stream of barely coherent words. She did not talk much; she never did, he remembered. She was a strong and silent warrior, even in her festive attire. Tonight she wore a light-green dress, embellished with gold embroidery. Not all of the gold-needlework was straight; it was a tad crooked, a simple human error. Nothing was perfect: not his mother, not him, not the scene. Nothing was perfect except the moments. Each and every breath and excited heartbeat.

Hiccup captured it and imprinted it anew in his mind to never forget. Never forget what was to come.

A drunk man passed them, apologising immediately for bumping into them even though he did not even remotely touch them. He waddled away, humming a tuneless melody. He was not disturbed in the least that he had one peg for a leg and for one hand a mug on a stick.

Hiccup and his mother were still following the well-known path through the meadow, longer than he remembered. That meant more time to shared moments together, beautiful, fleeing moments. A part of him separated from this memory wanted all of it to stop or at least slow down a bit. Time was running too fast away from him, merciless in the rhythm of excited breaths and heartbeat.

He saw everything, both as observer and as participant. He wished...

A moment of silence. He grasped the hand as hard as his weak hand allowed. Not hard enough.

"Mom?" He asked the memory," are you going to die?"

"I won't," the memory answered," as long as you never forget me."

He wanted to tell her about everything that happened since her death; that he changed, the village had changed. He had made friends, and he had found love and friendship with a creature he had been taught and had wanted to hate. He wanted to tell his mother he had earned the love of a wonderful and beautiful warrior-girl, that he had finally earned a father's love for his son. He had been connected to so many things, so many people. He saw so much, yet he still understood so little. Most of all, he wanted to tell his mother how he had grown up, always hoping, not remembering her, yet always having her in his heart.

He opened his mouth to tell her, the memory about everything. Right then, she smiled. It was the smile he had always wanted to draw, a smile for him and him only. He suddenly forgot what he wanted to say or achieve.

"Come, let's meet our destiny," she said softly, without urgency. There was still some path left, still time to enjoy the perfect evening.

He followed with her the rest of the way through the meadow towards the home.

Only when he passed the towering, sturdy door of the household did he feel the tiredness from his active day wash over his little body. He had to rely mostly on his mother's hand steady hand to help him conquer the stairs. Inside his room, empty of almost anything beside a too-large bed, an equally large desk and one, lonely stool by the bed, he let himself be dressed into his night clothes. These were a thin woollen tunic and trousers, both in the green of the Haddock clan.

The trophy he had won yesterday, a wooden helmet in the distinct shape of a blue scaled Nadder's head, rested on the desk as he slipped comfortably beneath the covers.

"Mom," he asked as she was about to leave.

"Yes, honey?" She replied in the same, gentle tone she always used with him.

Hiccup pulled the covers over his face, up to his eyes.

His voice muffled, he said," Can you...can you stay with me, please?"

He was shy about still needing to be tucked in. He was almost six, and his father had told him he needed to sleep by himself. He had started to have Hiccup sleep in his own room a few weeks ago now, but the boy was still afraid to be left alone.

As he expected, his mother consented with a small half-smile. He hoped it would be like this every night. The lullaby his mother sung, the same as every night was something had become natural to him by now.

_The king may sing in his bitter flight,  
The pine may croon to the vine to-night,  
But the little snowflake at my breast  
Liketh the song I sing the best, "Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
Weary thou art, anext my heart;  
Sleep, little one, sleep."_

The older Hiccup experiencing these memories now listened to the third verse being sung. However, he knew that on this night the younger Hiccup in that bed never heard the verse. The little boy was already asleep.

* * *

Something disturbed his rest! A familiar smell, the same lingering one which accompanied him whenever he rested his head against smooth black scales.

The smell of smoke.

He coughed as the realisation crashed over him. Another dragon attack! He had to get out of the house and ask the first adult he saw to take him to the shelter, just as his family had practiced. He saw the orange glow seeping through the cracks in the floor as the heavy smoke began to choke him. He used the bottom of his night-tunic to cover his mouth as he fought to open the door of his room.

The fire snapped in front of his face right after the door relented. He stumbled into the corridor, crashing against the wall and falling down. He recovered quickly, lunging towards the stairs. Coughing, he leaned towards the railing for the support. He bounced off it, hand outstretched hopelessly grabbing. His grip missed, and he tumbled down. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, body hurting all over. The pain took away even his ability to scream.

He mewled softly, crying between the deep breaths. He wanted Mommy! Where was she?

He did not stay down for long when he saw the flames. Yellow and orange tongues licked the walls outside the open window, dulled shouts and clangs of metal against metal broke through the noise of the flames and cracking wood.

That sound caused Hiccup to forget about all the pain and other needs. Walking purely on instinct, he crawled forward. Thankfully, there was not a lot of smoke yet by the floor, so he saw the opened doorframe not far away from him. But he did not go there. In the middle of the main room, next to the big wooden table, his mother lay face down.

There was no way he would escape now- he had to help her! She must have been surprised by the danger and lost consciousness because of the fumes.

The older Hiccup remembered this scene well. He remembered his reasoning. He convinced himself his mother had collapsed because of the smoke. Even though his mother lay in the large puddle of blood, and even though he crawled through it. It was all because of that damn smoke- it had to be!

"M-mom?" He asked softly as he approached the still figure. There were only two sounds he had remembering hearing: his breathing and the wet squelches his palms made against the warm gore.

The strands of braided hair, yellow as the dray hay were still there, as was the crown of flowers. It was all there.

Her face, however, was no longer there. Instead, a mutilated, crippled parody of one looked back at him. He no longer observed the memory from outside; suddenly he was there, one and the same with his younger self. And he looked, unable to advert his eyes or decide anything. Something broke in him, ripping itself away.

Amidst the approaching flames and smoke, the child's lips twisted into a carefree smile.

"I'll help you, mommy," Hiccup said confidently. It was the smoke to blame; he was sure he still had time to act.

He grabbed a blood stained hand and pulled. The corpse slid slowly on the polished wood. Hiccup coughed, sweating and straining his hands as he continued saving the life of his mother. He was almost there. He ducked quickly as a burning piece of wood fell down next to him. He stood up, feeling the heat surrounding them. With laboured breaths, grunts and sweats he continued to pull the unmoving hand.

Finally, he passed through the door's threshold, the yells behind him clearer and nearer. As he turned his head, he saw a couple of flaming arrows had stuck into the wall.

He thought all he would need would be one more pull to save his mother. His arms burned with tension. However, her body stuck against the bottom frame of the door. Just one small step to go, and he could not get over it.

Panicked, his eyes darted from side to side as he thought. He had to do something or his mom would die! He grabbed the bloody palm harder and pulled, only to lose his hold and fall backwards. From this position on the floor he could see the total destruction to his house, more lodged arrows, the burning roof and smoke. He looked at his hands, both covered in grime. He quickly wiped his hands against his trousers stood up and attempted again. He failed.

Through the tears he tried again . Pulled. Failed. Got up. Screamed as he pulled again. Failed. Again. And again.

On again sprawled on the ground, he turned back only when he heard somebody running behind him. Help!

He saw a complete stranger. A tall, dirty man stood there, head to the side, not looking at him. The man was clad in a disorganised collection of furs and ragged clothes, a bow hanging across his chest. He held a jagged sword in his hand.

Hiccup soon realised the man was looking at another man emerging from the darkness, someone who was not the man's friend. The other man had a similar blade, but in much better condition. _This_ man Hiccup recognised, vaguely . He did not know the name, but he knew the youthful, determined face. It was the groom from today's wedding, the one his father had blessed.

The dishevelled stranger did not retreat from the groom; he just raised his sword to threaten him. As if on a signal, both Norsemen yelled battlecries and met each other in battle.

It was short. The much older and experienced Outlaw repelled the young Berklander's wide swing and cut with an upward arc of his own sword. The groom fell with a scream of pain, blood soaking through his fingers as he pressed on a ruined jaw and bleeding throat. That he was still alive was a miracle; the remembering Hiccup realized the sword's edge had barely missed the groom's brain. The Outlaw took a breath and, not wasting a moment, took his sword in both hands. He raised it above his head.

Hiccup observed, rooted to the spot in fear. The bleeding young man looked up at the warrior and then he spotted the boy. He gurgled something, unable to speak, yet raising his hand to Hiccup. He obviously wanted him to escape.

It was the last movement he ever made.

"Odin, forgive me," the killer said and brought the weapon down. He gave the blade a hard twist, inhaled deeply and removed the sword from the body. Then he turned slowly to Hiccup.

The child looked back into the burning house and the limp hand hanging from the doorway and then to the man.

Hiccup broke into a sprint back to the house, only to feel himself being grabbed by the collar and pulled backwards, painfully. He immediately smelled the stench of sweat, unwashed leather and death. The man rose his one-handed sword above his head to the heavens.

"Odin! Forgive me for killing this child! The world must be purged of Haddock blood! Berkians must die for us to live in peace!" He shouted his prayer," Odin, forgive me," he repeated.

At the same moment, part of the burning roof fell down, burying half of the boy's mother in flaming debris. The movement startled the warrior. That was the distraction needed for Hiccup to break from the hold. He wrenched free, leaving a piece of woollen nightwear in the warrior's hand.

More of the roof fell, and soon the whole construction begun to topple.

"No!" Hiccup cried. The main supporting column gave up and, with a mighty crash, the house collapsed. The ball of flame erupted from the doorframe, the gust of wind knocking both Hiccup and the Outlaw off their feet. From outside, shouting voices approached the burning house. The man stood up first, unharmed. He saw the boy standing up as well, slowly and mechanically. The Outlaw was about to take a few steps and end what he started.

"You killed my mom," he heard the boy calmly accusing the flames. The Haddock's heir turned to him and, for the first time since this attack begun, the warrior felt fear clutching his stomach in an iron grip. The youth's eyes seemed to glow, his face free of emotions in spite of tears tracking down his cheeks.

"No. _You _killed mommy," Hiccup said and pointed at the Outlaw. It was not said sadly. It was a statement, an indifferent acknowledgement. Something else cracked inside the burning ruin, and a rain of flaming ciders showered around them. The boy stood there, unmoving, as one of the fragments landed on shoulder. His night tunic started burning.

The Outlaw could only watch as the cloth caught on fire and quickly took aflame to all directions. The green material shredded away, leaving an exposed, red, smoking skin. The child's face did not even twitch as if he did not notice it at all. The wool quickly burned and soon it was over, almost the whole of Hiccup's torso engulfed in flames.

"_You_ killed her," Hiccup stated again stated, taking a step forward. It might have been the heat of the flames, but the air around him seemed to shift and vibrate.

"D-demon's spawn!" The Outlaw shouted, taking a step back.

"You killed her," the glinting eyes announced and the head tilted to the side," I wish you to disappear."

With that, the man shouted in pain and grabbed his head, howling in agony. He screamed only once and then the pain stopped abruptly as he fell back, blood leaking through his nose, eyes and ears.

It was only then that Hiccup felt his pain, and it went more than skin deep. The biggest source of pain erupted on his back, just next to the right shoulder. He felt weak; unable to control himself he dropped face to the ground.

The last thing he saw was the young girl running towards him. He could barely identify the flowing braids of very light, very long blonde hair through his blurred vision. She screamed something to him. As she approached, he saw her terrified, tear-stricken face clearly.

What was Ruffnut doing here?

The last coherent thought he had before pain-soaked darkness overtook him was that he had failed his mother. He had not wished hard enough.

The memory ended for the most part, except for vague glimpses here and there. He remembered the barely conscious, feverish weeks which came after, the months of healing, the years of pain and the infinity of silence between him and father.

He found himself floating in the white place once more, disembodied and as empty. Except for his thoughts. He attempted to rationalise what he witnessed.

So, it had happened on the last day of the Summer's Solstice celebration, a time period when none of the tribes raised weapons against one another . Nobody had expected an attack. To attack on the Summer Solstice or during Yule was a betrayal of their culture and beliefs.

And he now knew it was not his fault, he did not kill his mother.

Somewhere between the shock, the emotional pain tearing him apart and the imagines of fire and death now permanently embedded into his imagination, he felt relief.

He was _not responsible_!

All the repressed emotions about her death flooded out as he felt a new side to the pain of her loss. No, it was not physical; still it crushed his being. He felt longing and he felt a pure and uncomplicated love flow through him. It was absolute devotion, the emotion only a child can give to his mother. I t hurt him so much to feel such feeling again, but it was such a wonderful emotion. Yet he was sad that he would never have anyone to share this feeling. His father still blamed Hiccup for his wife's death.

Hiccup understood his father's feelings, now . In some way, Stoick saw the death of his life partner whenever he looked at his son. The rift between them would never seal. It might get smaller with time; however, it would never close. Hiccup understood that as well.

Hiccup had spent all his years blaming and punishing himself, seeking redemption in solitude and in his father's praise.

It was all there now. It is all he wanted. His truth.

And yet there was no released joy of fulfilment; there was only emotional pain. It burned him as the fire which had his skin years ago. The howling inferno of feelings had destroyed him until there was nothing left.

He lost himself in the torment for a very, very long time.

The time passed at the speed of thought until in the strange white space, Hiccup was no more.

* * *

Seven stood behind the boy with four metallic pegs levitating in front of her. They were aimed at the human's head at such an angle that, if she would fire, they would pass through IT's head as well.

"Is the human hatchling supposed to be crying?" Aeon's voice asked her. Involuntarily, she smelled the air. She could not see Hiccup's face, although after a moment she smelled the tears.

"I would be surprised if he didn't," she eyed the blue dragon," you seem confident in Hiccup's judgment to succeed."

The Nadder snorted," I _know_ he will prevail."

Seven raised a white eyebrow in curiosity," strong words coming from somebody whose first words to Hiccup were-and I I quote—'I hate you'," she smirked, trying to find humour the situation they were in. She found none, although any dialogue was welcome now.

Aeon snorted once more and looked to his side.

"Silence, you!" the drake hissed. At the inquisitive stare of his partner he elaborated," That was intended for my derogatory imaginary companion, of course. Not you. This time, anyway."

Seven actually smiled at that.

* * *

**AN:The last part of Requiem is ready and is currently being proofed, It should be up in couple of days.**

**Couple of things for curious people to google:**

**Qualia**

**Longitudinally oriented channels**

**Lyophilisation**

**Just to name a , I usually base technological, medical, historical, philosophical and other terminology using modern terms. If you would search for them, you would most likely find its explanation. It is not mandatory though.**

**So here it is, Hiccup's past, a bit distorted, but still.**

**Was it worth the wait?**


	39. Requiem Part Three

**AN: Last part of Requiem. Enjoy.**

**Thank you as always to Fjord Mustang for proofing the chapter and being awesome.**

**To those who have read the chapter already. I forgot to add a writer's challenge at the end of the chapter. Apologies. **

* * *

It was hard to tell if he was present in the space inside his mind. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, lost in despair. He could not tell how long he had been here; he could not even tell if he was still conscious. All he could recollect was that his dispersed ego concentrated in an instant back to what he called himself.

_Some legends said that they could control Life itself_

He remembered what the Red Death showed him. The crystal woman...it was a message to him.

He could have his mother back! He knew what it wanted in return.

To help it destroy Toothless.

The being read his thoughts and intentions and immediately the defending pressure disappeared, it became...inviting.

Hiccup did not wait for a moment; his shapeless self dived inside that other mind.

The scenery changed. Hiccup lay in his bed, back in his house.

And Astrid was there, leaning above him with a playful grin. She also happened to be quite naked. She took his hand in her own sword calloused one. She guided it to touch her lovely body. Everything felt real: the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingers, the soft smell of clean sweat as if she just finished exercising, and it how the sweat made her lithe body gleam. Her eyes sparkled with need; full, red lips curled in a smile, a hint of shyness hidden beneath a blush . And her hair,, her amazing golden hair, was no longer constrained by her headband. It fell free in sweet-scented waves, drifting like a cloud about her shoulders and upper back. She moaned softly as she led his hand lower.

Despite all that, Hiccup felt nothing. It was rather frustrating. This was exactly the scene he had imagined, fantasised… It was how he _wanted_ it. And yet he felt nothing.

"No," he stated firmly to this "Not-Astrid", his eyes cold. Dead.

Her gaze changed to almost predatory as she took in his words.

"You know why I came here, Astrid. Not for this."

Not-Astrid smiled fully, and the scene dissolved into nothingness to be replaced with him sitting in front of the fire. He crossed his legs, noticing how he had both of them, and waited. The burning wood cracked cheerily beneath the starry sky. The stars were enormously big. Also wrong, all in wrong positions. Everything about being this scene was wrong. The mind he now occupied was wrong, alien. He got the impression it was merely disguising his world around him as something he could relate to. He looked around. A meadow atop a hill. He remembered the scenery. It was one of the islands near Berk he visited with Toothless during his Dragon Training days.

Hiccup heard footsteps approaching in front of him, and he soon saw a man walking towards the fire. The figure plopped himself negligently. The firelight revealed who the person was.

"Is this form better for your purposes?" The boy asked Hiccup and he was taken by a surprise as he looked back at himself.

"What's wrong? I trust this form and scenario is better, oh sirrah?" the other Hiccup snorted with typical sarcasm," I can take many forms, but I mainly want to be careful not to overload your brain. Also, this way of communication puts a lot of strain on me, you know. Don't take it personally, but I am forced to lower myself to your level."

Hiccup tilted his head," It's fine. Why the scenarios, apparently we don't need to talk at all. We should be able to mind speak"

The duplicate Hiccup lay down and rested his head on a hand," By the way, you can call me Reddy," he smiled," It's cuter aaand, not so serious sounding."

"What do you want, Red Death?" Hiccup asked very seriously.

"Hah!" the Red Death huffed exactly as Hiccup would have done," I'll cut right to the point. You've always been too sombre, Hiccup. And I am not counting your sarcasm because that was always your attempt at hiding the pain."

The Viking human did not change his expression.

The Red Death sighed," For your information, I am not," he grimaced," the _Red Death_," he quickly took a musing facade," Or am I? I guess...hmmm… I am and I am not...but mostly not...hard to tell. But!" He raised his finger," I _am_ here for your benefit. I want you to be sure."

"I am already sure," Hiccup answered emotionlessly.

The Red Death rolled his eyes," maybe you think you are, but I sense your primitive subconscious has not reached that consensus yet, so here's what we're going to do," he took a semi-serious voice," For now, you will still weigh the options and outcomes. You are quite a rational being by human standards- when you want to be. Even if you act very emotional, sometimes. However, for the most part you tend to be...serious and…analytical. I am going to play to that."

The Red Death sat upright and pointed above the fire at the other boy," I'm going to make sure that you won't have any doubts at all. Which happens to be exactly what you want!" He grinned, and yet the smile did not match the empty look in his green eyes at all. (Eyes had that a rather distinctive grey cast to them).

"So, Hiccup! You wanted to see Toothless' memories? It is your chance of...curing him from me after all! Come! It is your lucky day, or night! It's time for a little flight back in time," he stretched his hand towards Hiccup. The boy contemplated briefly the shape of the smile he was seeing, the paleness of the skin and gleam of the green eyes. Was it how he smiled? He did not like the view at all.

"Do whatever you want," the devastated Viking youth said without care.

He saw that other set of green eyes losing its shine. The hand elongated itself unnaturally as it grabbed the side of his head.

* * *

The young Furies played with each other, rolling in a greyish mass of scales and a cacophony of squeaks and playful growls. Hiccup found himself observing it from somewhere in the background, yet still disembodied and detached. He realized was inside Toothless' memory yet, it felt more...distant, more artificial.

It was the coast by the mountain where dragon used to live. It was where they were.

Suddenly the idyllic scene changed.

All of the dragons, young and old reacted. Whether sunbathing, flying or eating, all as one looked upwards to the sky at the same point. They all looked towards the massive shadow passing above the clouds.

There was a great presence within the mountain which currently controlled...no, guided all of the colony. It clearly spoke of one thing: a warning of danger. The presence hidden in the mountain normally protected these dragons, but now it sensed the approaching creature was far more powerful and dangerous.

More than a dozen of draconic shapes shot out of the dead volcano's side. They flew towards the shape with extreme speed. They formed a formation in the shape of an outstretched claw, before dispersing in perfect synchronization. They surrounded the shape, and then the sky was covered in fire.

The fire, even greater than the one the child Hiccup had experienced, howled and roared furiously. Lightning both blue and white danced on the cloud of black and yellow smoke. The protectors, now seen as black dots, darted away from the enemy and then turned around, diving once more for another pass. They were all controlled by that one mind buried in the mountain.

They never had a chance. Their guiding presence disappeared, cut off brutally and suddenly. It stirred another emotion from the dragons: fear. More dragons flew to protect what was theirs. They were fantastically agile and powerful. For a moment, Hiccup was sure they would win; however, his gut instincts knew how it would all end.

The protecting dragons all died and, as the attacking behemoth figure approached Hiccup finally saw what happened as pieces of bodies begun to fall nearby. They had ...exploded. As if something had crushed them, mercilessly, the unavoidable end.

The carnage of the behemoth against defending dragons continued, until no more defenders were left. They were still battle-capable individuals, their will focused on destroying the threat.

The cloud of plasma, electricity and fire dispersed, showing the Red Death in its full glory. Three rows of grey, almost white eyes, enormous wings and armoured hide. The being did not flap its wings, did not even have them outstretched. It simply floated through the air as the air vibrated around it. That same air screeched shortly, and the side of the mountain was turned to falling rubble as a hole showed itself, big enough to accommodate the bulky body.

For the first time, it met anything like true resistance. Something cut through the beast; white flame, brighter than sun, appeared behind the Red Death, and three of the eyes burst in blood and slime. The flame cut again through the light trail surrounding the death bringer. New gashes erupted, fragments of flesh began falling until all the limps separated and begun to fall in a rain of blood.

The white flame stopped, and Hiccup saw the orb of flame disappear, showing the graceful figure of Timberjack, exactly as Hiccup saw on the drawing. The long, narrow neck, long stream-lined muzzle, thin body and enormous, jarred razor-sharp wings, all in subtle yellowish-brown colouration. The Timberjack hovered like the Red Death, without using his...her wings.

Hiccup realized this Timberjack was the mountain's presence, the guiding figure, the harmonious spirit. It was the greatest insight Hiccup had ever gained on dragonic culture as he felt through Toothless what was happening.

However, Hiccup was surprised that the young Night Fury below, entangled in his group of playmates, felt nothing at the attack. Not sorrow or anger, not even self awareness or needs. Toothless felt empty; only life functioning instincts were there. His only instinct was to follow that figure fighting with the behemoth danger in the sky.

Hiccup then realized suddenly that Dragons lived _together_, all subjected to viewpoint, and it felt good. It was so much different from the Red Death's control Hiccup had felt before. This draconic guiding will was soothing, protective, feminine and motherly. He did not need to think or know. That figure, so strong and yet so caring, would not stop guarding them until her last breath.

Hiccup rooted for her. He wanted her to succeed; he _needed _her to win_._ It was beautiful; it was all he ever wanted at that moment.

Before the Red Death's dismembered shards met the ground, they stopped their fall in mid-air. They flew upwards and begun reconstructing together the body. Hiccup was certain of a chilling truth at that moment. Whatever that behemoth thing was, it could never have been destroyed by any means, not when it was able to regenerate itself perfectly.

The white-flaming Timberjack began her dance with even greater ferocity. Despite the damage done, though, it was not enough to stop the Red Death from regenerating its form. All injuries, no matter how lethal, disappeared. The faster it had been cut, the faster it healed.

The Timberjack let out a cry as the flames cocooning her strengthened to the point that the ocean below began to boil.

Something hit the Timberjack's orb of fire, appearing as a short vibration of air. The great power struck it once only, but that was more than enough. The heated temperature disappeared, incineration ceased. Flesh and blood exploded, and then the Timberjack, last and final guardian of the colony, was falling to the rocks below. She was dead and mutilated beyond recognition.

The link connecting every dragon together suddenly vanished. An absolute silence took over. The hatchlings started to wail for attention of their preoccupied parents and kin. Older dragons tried to escape or fly to fight. At that fleeing moment, Hiccup realised that a dragon, over any other instinct or need, had a craving to be connected to something central, to not be left alone.

They were not alone for long. The link between the dragon swarm and a guardian presence re-established itself, with a new being at the top. The behemoth was not gentle; it cut through the will of every individual with ease.

Hiccup picked up on that feeling. The invading behemoth did what it was supposed to do. It just felt very, very wrong.

The mass of baby Night Furies disentangled themselves, and the Viking observer finally saw the main actor of the scene: Toothless in his hatchling stage. At this point in time, he was a small, greyish dragon, not so different from the other younglings surrounding him. He had enormous light-green eyes with hints of newly-hatched blueness still in them. His seemingly scaleless infantile hide was decorated with dark grey spots and stripes. His stubby wings had to be dragged alongside his body, as the hatchling did not have the full control over them yet.

The invading behemoth—the Red Death- disappeared into the mountain's bowels through the opening it had made.

Toothless, satisfied a new leader had taken charge, was content with the new presence. The disturbing void had been filled up again; the world was balanced one more. The hatchling Toothless nipped his playmate's wing. Before long, the hatchlings once more turned into a playful mass, free from intelligence or self-awareness, free from worry about the future of death that awaited them.

Time seemed to shimmer for Hiccup, and he saw Toothless again, but time had passed for the Night Fury,

The shape of an adolescent Fury trotted gracefully up the steep slopes of the dormant volcano. Toothless had grown considerably. Lean muscles played beneath the skin as the dragon deftly moved upwards. His hide was darker, but not yet pitch blue-black. The spots and stripes of his hatchling hide remained the same.

Toothless' eyes locked on the cave entrance not so far above, They had lost the hints of blue in them and had become the shade of intense, toxic-green Hiccup knew the best. Still, Toothless could not fly. His wings had grown and appeared fully functional; however, the Night Fury was not using them.

Perhaps it took a longer time for the Night Fury species to learn how to fly. Or, Hiccup wondered, maybe there was no older Night Fury left alive who could teach Toothless how to fly? . Hiccup realized that he could feel, through Toothless, an emptiness, both in the youthful Fury and in the community.

However, the Behemoth's Presence was as overwhelming as it had been when it had invaded. Whatever Toothless was doing right now, Hiccup speculated, it was a reaction from Toothless, and not something the Fury had decided to do on his own.

Hiccup received the answers to his questions as his one true friend's past version jumped over the cliff edge and rushed toward the entrance.

Hiccup saw, just inside the cave, there were dozens of Furies, both young and old. Dozens here in his vision, yet he realized that there could be hundreds more beyond his point of view. The cave itself seemed to stretch deep into the mountain although only the front part was used. And, still, Hiccup could see more Furies gathered in the cave as it stretched further and further into the mountain. There might even be a massive colony here of Furies!

Toothless walked between the resting Night Fury bodies, none of them acknowledging his passage. He stopped by an older and larger fury. She was expelling laborious breaths. By her belly, covered in slime and blood, a shaking form of a newborn dragon squealed softly. His soft skin wrinkled on his neck as he smelled one of his kin and turned his shut eyes towards him. His closed eyelids were the same colour as the rest of the infant's body, a monotone light-grey, although the spots and stripes were already there, much darker than the hide. Not only blind, but also truly toothless, the newly hatched and birthed pup opened his maw and begged for food with high-pinched whines. Toothless throatily regurgitated pieces of fish and begun chewing them thoroughly into an even softer paste. Birdlike, Toothless fed the paste into the mouth of the light-coloured dragon infant. The mother looked on with no apparent reaction. There was no joy of the new life, no surprise or any desire, just an instinct and an omnipresent Will. But that was good; it was all Toothless needed. He was reassured that he was never alone.

Time flew forward for Hiccup once again, pitching him along with the growth of Toothless…

The dark, almost pitch-black Fury flew above fast moving waves looking for prey. The dragon dived suddenly and disappeared beneath the waves. He quickly emerged holding a sizable tuna, wiggling in his front paws. He flew back to the mountain. He knew the food was not for him, but that did not bother him. It was intended for someone else, and that was the Will. It was all he needed to know.

Scene changed.

Toothless sniffed the brown eggs, spotted with white splotches. They lay surrounded by smooth rocks. Nearby nests showed more of eggs, in a similar state of abandonment. The smell told Toothless everything: these eggs would never hatch. All of the dragons had problems breeding after the behemoth had taken over, and more and more died each day. It almost seemed as if dragons were losing their will to live.

Toothless sniffed an egg once more. Sure that it was freshly dead, he bit into it and drank the yolk greedily as it poured down between his jaws. After finishing, he noticed the unmoving body of a hatchling half-emerged from its own shell. He tilted his head and sniffed the tiny corpse. It was not his kin. He ate.

Nothing could be wasted, it was the Will.

Something changed in the setting, suddenly. Time had passed again.

Another Fury, a bit bigger than Toothless, now sat in front of the blankly staring youngling. This dragon was much sleeker in build, brown stripes and spots marked her black hide instead of the typical very dark grey ones. An even smaller dragon, barely a hatchling, perched on her head and sniffed the air curiously. As Toothless barely tilted his head at the new arrival, at the attention the female squinted her eyes and showed her tongue. The male Fury huffed, not understanding the unusual behaviour in the slightest.

Hiccup now realized the dragons were in some sort of a cave filled with the biggest crystals Hiccup had ever seen. They shot out of every wall, some formed like flowers with light-blue sharp petals, others like fiery pink and red cubes, prisms and star-shaped stones. Hiccup also realized, through his connection with Toothless' memories, that the Will was weaker here . So another one had taken over it: this sleek brown-striped dragon.

She was a very important figure in Toothless' memory, Hiccup could tell. A young family member—maybe a sister?

Her mind was as gentle as the original guiding Presence had been, and just as caring. Though she was always wary of danger and weak in power, she was still strong enough to cause both young males—Toothless and the little hatchling- to give her full attention and respect. So, she had defied the Behemoth and taken things in her own paws, Hiccup decided.

Here, in this wondrous grotto, the young dragoness had begun talking to her kin, and that was how Toothless and his brother began their path towards sentience. Sometimes they would spend days playing, the sister grabbing Toothless' tail in her mouth and pulling playfully. It irritated him greatly, he tried to retaliate, each and every time failing to even touch his assailant as the female Fury gracefully leaped away, the youngest of the Furies watching the spectacle with wonder. Whenever the little brother finally decided to join and tackle the female, he always succeeded as she reeled theatrically and let fell, letting the youngling take the glory. It made Toothless angry that he had to work so hard and never get his reward. He was jealous.

Each day he tried to catch his sister and each day he failed. His movements became sharper, fluid and he could keep up with the lightning-fast movements of his mentor for longer. Toothless never caught her.

Memories flew quickly, all filled with learning. Knowledge filled Toothless' mind, and he greedily absorbed it. New stories about other worlds, other skies, strange and wondrous smells and creatures. One of those beings particularly caught his sister's attention: a peculiar bipedal beast with a metal head who just showed itself up at the nearby island.

Hiccup never was certain how fast Toothless could learn, but now he realized what a wonderful thing a dragon's mind was. Before long he was able to communicate easily with his sister. The observing boy did not really understand exactly what conversation was exchanged between the little family. However, he could sometimes guess the topic, a _taste_ of it. That piece of the Fury's imagination once only able to show monochromatic colours and shapes was becoming more and more complex. It was during this period that Toothless received his dragon name. Hiccup could not identify just what that name was, only how it felt.

The name felt _real_, it gave him a small power, an anchor that would always remind him of who he was. Toothless' memories showed the Fury felt it was the most wondrous thing he had ever received. The Will was still something that controlled much of his life, yet slowly it was being replaced by the smaller Will, the weak and gentle one that dominated the beautiful grotto. And that grotto was a place he always yearned to return to, even while he was being controlled by the Will when he went outside of it. The grotto was something very special. A home.

Another memory flashed; his sister wanted to bring more of her kin into the grotto and return freedom to them. Escape.

Hiccup felt that Toothless did not notice it; however, the longer time he spent being taught, not only his mind became sharper, but his feelings did, too. Not the things his body processed about the world, but emotions Hiccup could recognise. Longing for contact. Sadness. Need for comfort and understanding.

When the dragon first began noticing such feelings, they terrified him. Fear he knew very well. It was most primal of emotions, but the others created new feelings of uneasiness within him. He was not certain about where was he going, or if his journey had an end at all. Sometimes, he wanted to flee outside the grotto where he did not have to deal with his new mind-emotions and this sense of...chaotic self. Outside was only the Will, it was ruthless and alien, but it kept him alive, so it lent a sense of stability that was preferable to the emotional uncertainty.

So he shared his worries and thoughts. His sister assured him that it was part of the _Ascension _as Hiccup decided to name it. She had given him the gift of self-awareness, and it could not be taken back. There was always only one direction to move: forward. He was assured, overall. After all, when things got too confusing, he still could immerse himself in the Will and mentally disperse into nothingness.

Time shifted forward…

The sun loomed over the ocean, cladding its surface in light red. There was a meeting. Every dragon had to come, his sister and brother no different. Nobody had a choice about it, since it was the Will. Inside the dead volcano, the colony gathered, every rock shelf crowded by dragons. Everything was silent as, from the misty pit, an enormous body emerged and regarded the assembled population. For a split moment, the Red Death let the Will disappear, returning control to everybody. A cacophony of sounds and movement erupted. Toothless was too surprised by the gesture to react. He remained sitting at the farthest part of the gigantic enclave.

The first dragon who attempted to fly off the grounds exploded violently. Just like before, when the Red Death had invaded, chaos erupted. more dragons rose into the air, only for their bodies to turn into a bloody mass, splattering over cold stones and panicking other dragons. Only those who attempted to escape, or to attack the Red Death, were destroyed. Erased. It happened quickly, but not quickly enough for Toothless to forget. Right before him, his _Kathet _was being wiped out.

Quicker than his eye could blink, he found himself left alone amidst a field of red blood, white bones, and charred-black skin. A plethora of unmoving, reflective eyes where fear had imprinted itself at the last moment, seemed to stare at Toothless . _Join us!_ They seemed to say.

Without the heavy curtain of the Will, the adolescent Fury was alone with his mind and terror. It was not the death the dragon was afraid of. He feared more the void in the form of an enormous...thing. Hiccup understood that more than ever.

Six whitish eyes locked on the blood-covered Fury. Toothless barely registered the warmness beneath his belly as he lost control over his bladder. His heart hammered in his chest to the point of bursting. A nonphysical force now immobilised him, and he whimpered like a hatchling.

Slowly, all the remains rose into the air and started circulating around the Red Death, who not even for a moment looked away from the young Fury. It was a swirling forest of bones: sharp ribs between detonated chests, wings and tails, legs and heads.

The blood dripped on Toothless rhythmically.

_Drip, drip, drip _

The restraining force now caused Toothless' head to lift itself upwards. There, prepared specially for him, his dead parents' remains looked down at him. All that was left was their heads.

Toothless was not saddened as he never developed any real feelings towards most of his family. He was mainly afraid, and that fear would always plague his mind from now on.

He continued shuddering as something nuzzled his cheek, desperately trying to grasp his attention. It was his sister.

There was no more Will, no more for him. He regained his senses few days later as hunger forced him back into a reality he did not want to experience. Only a handful of Furies remained in the cave, and Toothless never felt more alone. He could sense the presence of his sister and brother. The others he blocked out. Those who had died were those who thought about rebelling. Thought was a crime, and it had to be purged. Those dragons who were left, would always have this memory to remind them they would suffer a similar fate.

Not long after, the dragons began flying to a nearby island and stealing food from the weird creatures who lived there. It was the first time Toothless saw a "human" with his own eyes as he used his plasma to kill it. He obeyed whenever instruction was given to him, even the command to kill; he was too afraid to do otherwise. His sister flew with him, navigating him away from the torches and arrows. She concentrated on firing on light-towers, never aiming at the creatures themselves.

Toothless eventually cut himself off from the last of his kin. His sister was the one who brought doom to them. They shifted apart. If only they would not listen, if only he would have not listened! It was not his choice to become anything else than a mindless follower. Why did his sister have to gift him with a sense of the world and of his place in it? It was chaotic, it was full of pain and suffering, misery and uncertainty. He silently hoped to be taken back by the Will, yet he was too afraid to even approach the Red Death. He did not know what to do. Emotions were now ruling him, not the Will, and he still did not understand the world or himself any better for it.

He wandered mindlessly along the same sea shore for weeks, returning only to feed his brother and sleep in the same cave as the rest of his kin, but never too close. He was broken between a need to be alone and a craving for affection.

Time passed. His brother learned how to glide. His sister became a rare sight, disappearing with increasing frequency. She became as distant and distracted as he was. They never visited the grotto again.

Some dragons, using their free will, began learning from each other. Toothless embraced the concept of mind-control over his own body. He learned how to heal it, how to attend to wounds, how to attack and defend himself.

Nobody left the nest, because there was no escape from the inevitable, the Will always guided back. Other dragons did not want his company. He could not find a companion or a mate. They feared him, for he was marked by the Red Death, he was _Its_. The Monstrous Nightmares were quick to growl at him or even attack whenever he showed himself.

Toothless felt alone and rejected. Only the Teachers consorted with him. They were more open, as they were older and more knowledgeable. Toothless kept contact only with his younger brother, who spent his time playing near him by the beach. The older brother often stared at the horizon. The younger chased the beams of light along the sand, played with other younglings or tried to get Toothless' attention by biting his tail. Rarely did Toothless play, but he relished his brother's company.

Alone, but never together. Together but always alone, that was his mindset these days. Hiccup understood that. It was the basic type of loneliness all humans had to endure at times in their lives. They were alone in their minds, experiences and sensations. Toothless waited to be controlled and be shown the proper way and the proper Will. Only then, would the situation repair itself. He did not know inventiveness. He lived by habit and repetition; there was no solution because there was no drive one. There was an instinctive will to live and yet no understandable reason to follow it. One never asked why, one just followed it.

The ambivalent routine ceased one evening when his sister approached him during one of his silent sessions with the empty ocean surface. She came with the setting sun and with a fish tail dangling down her muzzle.

Toothless' tail end raised and his wings stiffened as he signalled that he did not wish her to come any closer. She bowed before him in an elaborate greeting, beginning with writing a strange rune in the grey sand. She flapped her wings once and then pressed them against her sides with a dry clash. Tail raised high, she bent her legs, her chest almost touching the granular soil. She did not do the usual end gesture of looking into his eyes, lowering her own briefly and then looking back again to render them equals for the meeting. Instead, her eyes remained lowered. She was rendering herself as an inferior, accepting Toothless' superiority.

He was unrepentant. His tail beat the sand once, wanting her to leave. The female Fury rushed to him faster than he could react, her nose stopping just before his scaled neck.

He bit her, outraged at her breaking the protocol and invading his personal space. Instead of bone-crushing force, however, his fangs barely pierced her hide, stopping immediately when he tasted blood.

Unperturbed by his action in the slightest, the sister nuzzled his neck gently with her nose, taking in his scent. Toothless was angry, and with that touch, all of the desire to hurt vanished. Regret for what he had done replaced his anger, which was now as far gone as the human island (the farthest place he had ever visited). Toothless wanted to be comforted and feel a part of a whole.

They all slept next to each other after a night of play and quiet talk: he, his sister and his brother. He did not understand the emotions, as usual; however, he felt warmth next to her and the comforting smells and sounds of slow heartbeats. Everything was as it was supposed to be, a chaotic type of order that soothed the troubled mind. It was happiness, and he did not know the word to describe it.

They were awakened by a horde of Nightmares rushing into their cave, hissing and spitting aggressively. They were upon the Night Fury family before Toothless could open his eyes. His groggy mind shuddered and caught up with the events. Jaws, easily more than two times the size of his head now opened before him. Petrified with fear, he could not react in time.

A black paw landed on the assaulting Nightmare jaw and gently pushed it away. Strangely enough, that gentle push sent the bulking dragon flying at the wall. Another Nightmare head shot towards Toothless, and the same paw slid beneath the maroon beast's narrow jugular. The Nightmare begun wheezing as Toothless' sister lifted his stiffened neck in one swift motion, causing him to sit on his hind legs. The female Fury jumped before the Nightmare's exposed belly and in a black -brown twirl, she kicked. Two aggressors behind crashed backwards, their dislodged partner slamming down on them.

Toothless' vision filled with mottled velvety leather as his sister unfurled her wings protectively in front of him and his brother. She was silent, calmly observing the enemy.

One of the Nightmares, an orange-brown female, hissed and scooted quickly as the protective black dragoness surveyed the dragons near the entrance. Most of them appeared unsure of what to do. Before the orange-brown beast took two steps in an attempt to surround the sleek Fury, she was hit with a bright blue fireball. She rolled over, unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. Toothless could tell this from her steady heart beat. All of those dragons hit by his sister were alive. Why did she not strike to kill?

The attack stopped completely. Three Night Furies with only one ready to fight facing off against an entire contingent of dragons against the cave opening all hissing, spitting, and snapping jaws aggressively. Yet none of them approached; all stayed far away from the still she-Fury. Toothless thought that the Nightmares were sure to win as he peered from behind his sister's wing.

It was never an option though, and one of the Furies knew that much. The oldest of the family turned back to her kin and hissed something commandingly, her green eyes as hard as steel. Toothless' body instinctively obeyed. He ran away with his brother towards the back of the cave. The fight started anew with a powerful, blue explosion. The cave shook with a mighty roar of a Fury, full of rage and frustration. The Nightmares' bellows followed, full of pain.

Their defiance ended right there as the Will suddenly reared up again. It filled all of the dragons' minds, and nothing mattered anymore.

Darkness.

* * *

The enormous cave was still. A fiery reddish glow emanated from the hellish, misty pit. The smooth stone leading to it was empty when Toothless returned to his senses- or more precisely, he was allowed to.

Amidst the dark red pool of blood, lay his sister, unmoving.

He lunged forward in an instant with a cry full of worry and pain. The distance shortened quickly, he now saw the numerous bite marks on her body, claw-marks and burns. Broken tail and wings, missing ear-antenna, an open gash for an eye. The wounds were fresh, injuries still glistening.

Toothless was close, almost at a claw's length, when he slammed into a wall of air. A solid transparent space flared up between him and the brutally damaged member of his family.

Momentarily stunned, the Fury shook his head, jumped and hit same unyielding barrier. He roared with anguish and clawed it. But it held, impenetrable to his talons. He begun crashing faster against the invisible force, like a maddened animal. Overtaken with rage, he did not give up, even as his shoulder dislocated as he slammed the barrier. His right front leg hung limply.

In a last, desperate attempt, he opened his jaws, the distant, blue light growing in strength at the back of his throat. The fireball exploded with a thundering din; the electric-blue blast wave cast him backwards, rolling hopelessly. His momentum stopped and he lay, injured and spent. His unfocused eyes searched space before him. His sister was still there, bleeding and dying.

Toothless stood up on three shaky legs. Something nudged him from the side. He turned quickly to see his little brother looking into his eyes with calmness and determination. The smaller of the dragons knew something the older did not. Before Toothless could ask about it, the Presence manifested itself at the end of the cave.

The wounded Fury's senses went into overdrive as he took a step backwards, ears flattened against his head and whimpering weakly. The adolescent, still- grey Fury did not show any sign of fear. He quietly sat, eyes set on the static, bloody silhouette before them.

The Red Death showed itself. Its monstrous body rose from the pit into the air without the use of its wings and, with surprising grace, it landed quietly. It wore a very large and disgustingly human-looking grin. Its twisted smile widened showing rotten gums.

Between its front legs lay the miniscule, broken form of a female Fury.

Something was announced in everybody's minds. Hiccup understood the context, if not the words.

Punishment, righteous retribution on an insignificant life.

Disobedience must be punished.

Those unworthy of the gift must perish. One Will. One Mind.

Smother the unworthy!

One Will. One Mind!

Smother.

Smother!

**_SMOTHER!_**

Hiccup knew with his whole being that he did not want to watch what was going to happen. There were no words to describe what he had witnessed. How complete was a dragon's memory, how brutally accurate and attentive his eyes were. Not one single detail was missed.

Hiccup watched as the unfortunate female Fury who wanted to fight for freedom was torn to pieces … alive.

The dragoness regained consciousness as a telekinetic grip took hold of her broken wing and began twisting slowly. She did not cry in agony; instead her eyes looked at her siblings and the only thing she cried was a command.

She did not want them to approach.

The wing twisted more than ninety degrees and, with a wet crack, the joint gave up.

It did not stop turning.

Then the roars of pain begun.

Hiccup never had heard such sounds. nor he would have imagined that any creature, human or dragon, was capable of producing them.

It took a long, extremely long time before the wing finally gave out and was torn free from the body.

It was madness! Hiccup did not want to watch this; he did not want to be there. It was too much! He felt what Toothless did, and he seemed be mentally feeling the same pain as his sister was. He was stunned in terror, heart hammering, paralysed by the insanity of the situation.

There was a very brief pause in the cries. Then the second wing rose by itself and begun rotating, slower than before. The Red Death kept wearing the same, joyous grin.

The second large wing joined the first one on a pile of gory limbs on the ground. Next came the tail, then a rear leg.

All that time, the tortured Fury was conscious and alive, probably due to the enormous fortitude and tenacity her body possessed.

The Red Death stopped. More announcements. Hiccup's numbed mind barely caught its general syntax.

In a show of mercy, the pain can be ended. Blood can be ended by the same blood. Kin against kin. A choice is presented.

Smother your own.

Smother… or watch her in pain.

In the mindset of Toothless, Hiccup did not know how to react to the message, but he knew the implications.

The Red Death wanted the victim's brothers to kill her.

Smother.

Toothless trembled, all pain distant as his vision tunnelled.

Smother!

He was afraid, so very afraid.

**_SMOTHER!_**

Toothless took a shaky step back, a decision which would haunt him until the end of his existence.

He did not understand why he needed to kill his own kin. He could not do that. Why? There was no reason to do that. The fear in him was too strong, he was powerless, weak. Nothing could have been done. Nothing.

A sound like a complicated whistle happened by his side. Unbelieving, Toothless turned.

His adolescent brother took a furious step forward. And then another.

The whistle-sound filled the cave, with more power.

Six grey eyes looked on the greyish Fury walked forward.

Toothless did not say anything; he trembled and remained back at his spot.

His little brother, the one he used to play with, passed through the invisible barrier. A barrier which suddenly was not there anymore.

His sister's remaining eye opened sluggishly as the young Fury came right by her side and throat. Weakly, she tried to resist and push him away. He stepped on her shoulder and held her dying body still. He nuzzled his caretaker with unmistakable emotion, yet one Toothless could not name.

The greyish Fury opened his jaws. They shone with glistening fangs. With one quick motion, they closed around the dark neck.

As with everything else which happened there, it took too long.

Her paw opened and closed. She wiggled weakly and twitched, her body fighting for breath. The dragoness gurgled something, trying to say something. Perhaps to protect or soothe her killer. In one last struggle, she lifted her head and pressed it against the grey's dragon's muzzle side and stroked it.

Unable to turn fully to Toothless, she cast her gaze towards him and kept it there until her paw, her beautiful paw….

…Was not moving anymore.

The bloody lips released the limp flesh. The youthful Fury, finally let go and turned to the towering behemoth, raising his head high in dignity.

Beneath the Red Death's gargantuan posture, the gesture seemed almost insignificant. Without losing his grotesque grimace, the monster lifted a paw and breathed a small torrent of controlled flames on one of the claws. Satisfied, it dropped the heated talon to the young Fury's head. In shocking depth, the sharp end of the bone branded something on the dragon's forehead . The young Night Fury did not move.

The Red Death looked back at Toothless for a moment. Then and its body casually flew upwards to hover over and then disappear into the infernal pit. It left one instruction as it exited.

**_LEAVE_**

Toothless shook as the Will cut through him. The last thing he was aware were the bloody jaws of his brother, the same ones which had killed his sister moments ago. His murderous lips moving, articulating a message for him.

Do not die, sole remnant of my family. Do not die.

His branded and cursed brother then unfolded his wings. With a few flaps he rushed into the air, leaving the Nest forever.

A familiar blackness overtook the last remaining Fury as he moved against himself away. There was the Will, the presence he had craved. And despite all of it, one thing was certain.

He was truly alone.

Before running away as a coward he was, he saw how his sister remains disappear between the crushing jaws of something he would fear for the rest of his life.

Days turned into nights, the cycle repeated, unperturbed and indifferent to the Fury's tragedy.

Toothless withered away. He lost all interest in hunting. Even flying to a nearby island to quench his thirst became unnecessary in this mind. He had lost all interest in sustaining himself, other than drinking the puddles made from island rains. The Will at least made him do that. Every moment free of control he used in a single way: sitting by the shore in the middle of the grey beach, listening to the water and looking at the fog or the sky. He imagined that fog was something uncertain and unknown, that the sky was yearning. Perhaps his brother would return one day.

At least the water was patience and calmness.

This place became very important for him, even though he was not aware of it. He tried not to think, to eradicate all thought and emotion. But he was too weak to utilise any mind-control techniques. So he forgot all meditation and training. When the Will became strong enough, he joined the raids on the human's settlement, but only because the Will had guided him. He always wanted to be back on the beach with under the sky, and the bones of his ancestors mixed with the sand.

Finally, after a few months of inactivity due to no raids, his wings muscle atrophied and were unable to maintain his flight. The Will commanded him to fly and hunt; he obeyed and crashed immediately. His legs, similarly, were barely strong enough to carry his weight. Not much was left of his once majestic posture. More tendons than muscle stretched across bony frame. He now had had hollow, bloodshot eyes. Patches of discoloured white skin spotted the weak dragon's hide.

Despite all of it, he was at peace. He did not wish for death; he simply had lost all interest in prolonging his existence. There were no Furies left, and all his family was gone. The Will, once fulfilling, became foreign and meaningless.

He never flew again.

Sensing the inevitable, when the Will called, he followed it obediently, his emotions detached. His crumbling legs carried him, for the last time, into the very same spot his sister occupied when he had last seen her.

The behemoth rose from his fiery lake den. The Red Death looked down at him without any emotions, almost calculatingly. Toothless did not even look back. Everything had become insignificant.

Something now hovered before his muzzle: a leg, still dripping in blood. A dragon's leg. It still smelled fresh, a recent kill.

The meaty end poked at his lips, forcing itself into his mouth. He tasted blood and did nothing to consume it, despite his body begging for it. Weak as he was, his teeth remained unsheathed. The appendage slid away from his toothless mouth onto the ground with a wet crash.

The Red Death rumbled disapprovingly. Something took hold of Toothless' body as he was levitated before the enormous facade. The resigned Fury did not resist, nor look back at the one who would end his life.

None of it mattered.

A claw, roughly half the size of the Fury's body, pointed at the middle of his chest.

Six eyes narrowed.

**_FAILURE_**

The claw pushed forward in one, clean motion. Toothless sighed.

Hiccup wanted to scream as he felt the bones cracking, Toothless' flesh severing as if it was his own.

The black dragon coughed out blood as it filled his mouth. Black dots danced before his vision. In his few last moment, he realised that he did not hear his heartbeat- because his heart was being stilled inside of him. A sharp pincer of a talon stirred inside his flesh and ripped out a part of a rib. Then it plunged into the Fury's heart. Deeper and deeper and deeper until there was no more room—or reason—for the heart to keep beating.

Cold and darkness swept away his life.

The Night Fury was dropped, and his body fell, discarded and useless. The Red Death looked at his claw, gazing at the bloody part of the rib on it as on a treasure. Then the creature ate it.

Toothless never felt the impact as his cooling body crashed against the cold stones.

And that was how the last Night Fury on the island died.

Hiccup did not have time to think about anything that had happened. He struggled with a morbid sea of emotions, the metallic taste in his mouth, the sensation of ripped flesh, the experience of _death_.

The impossibility of the situation amplified as the memories—surprisingly - continued.

Time shifted forward…

…Toothless choked as a deep breath filled his chest to its limits with oxygen. He coughed, a long series of dry, unsatisfying coughing as his body curled, fighting with pain against a recent trauma that was not there anymore.

Realizing that he was still alive, Toothless looked at his emaciated chest where, to him, moments ago an enormous talon had plunged into the cavity.

He saw exposed and torn muscles, crawling like worms towards each other. The fibres connected and rebuilt themselves. Before he could press his paw to them, they were gone, hidden beneath freshly-created skin.

In utter disbelief, he kept looking at the uninjured spot as if it would revert to its gruesome state. He should have been dead; he _was _dead! Experimentally, he put a claw to his chest and slid it over, leaving a thin, red line which began bleeding quickly. It did not close up. He felt pain, a most distant sensation amidst this crushing sense of unreality.

He diverted his shaky gaze from the wound. Next to him, he saw a dark, leathery wing, lying flat on the ground, a long, sleek, ebony tail, an emaciated torso and an oval head bent at an unnatural angle. Half-open, misty toxic-green eyes looked at infinity.

Toothless walked around the dead Fury. He noticed the largest pool of blood was beneath the mutilated dragon's chest. Guided by an irrepressible instinct, he yearned to see how this familiar dragon had died.

Toothless slid his paw beneath the collapsed, bony chest. After a brief struggle, he turned the limp drake over.

A hole in the chest, exactly in the same spot his was.

Toothless looked back at himself.

His dead self.

He took a step back, unable to comprehend what was happening. A deep warble shook his whole body. It returned him back to the situation he was in.

Without showing itself, the Red Death spoke to his confused puppet.

**Equal worth life and death are. Failure be eradicated. You have been recreated. Created in my image. You are mine.**

Toothless took a long, last look at the corpse. Then he broke into gallop and then leapt into the air only to fall back instantly. He still had weak wings, weak legs and weak will. Amongst all things which were as before one changed. He no longer was in some sort of lethargy, waiting for death to arrive, he wanted to live, he wanted to keep drawing breath, he wanted to escape.

As he leapt from the mountain's edge and glided downwards the terrible roar shook the mountain.

**_MINE!_**

* * *

His emaciated body gradually became stronger, although not returning to its original state yet. He still hunted and kept himself alive, following an instinct which seemed alien and unnatural. He tried to cling to the fading sense of serenity he remembered.

Slowly, peacefully withering away…

That was how it was supposed to be. He should have been dead. There was a profound sense of wrongness in everything he did. He was not supposed to be here. The ongoing pain in his chest reminded him of it. Since he had left the cave, he had been torn with waves of pain emanating out from his nonexistent injury.

He still sat in the beach yet, it did not bring him even an iota of tranquillity it had brought him before. Despite that, he kept the routine as a familiar gesture, an attempt to soothe a tormented mind he did not understand.

He was called again and again before the Red Death. The format of the meetings changed. The behemoth talked on various topics. Toothless kept silent for the most part, unless asked about something. Most importantly, he was taught.

From what Hiccup could tell, the calm posture, eyelids closed as Toothless concentrated reminded him of meditation sessions he had observed the Fury to be doing in the cove. The boy now felt the chest pain his friend experienced.

After several such "meetings", the pain disappeared only flaring up occasionally.

Sometimes the Red Death would call in his favourite subject to show him something human-oriented, items which had been taken during raids.

One time, Toothless saw a book being levitated as the monster studied it with a foul grin. Another time it was a weapon. And one time it was a human corpse. The Read Death knew that the Fury had been told about the soft-skinned creatures . It appeared to Hiccup that that all these human-artefact visits were to mock Toothless for sharing his sister's favourable view on them.

In a twisted parody of what his Teachers used to do, Toothless was taught new ways to fight and how to heal himself. He received all this knowledge from the one thing he was most afraid of and- he did not realise yet- hated. He did everything he was ordered to out of fear. It was the driving force behind everything. Fear had become his closest companion.

Sometimes, he woke up suddenly, not able to breathe, as if somebody had crushed his throat. Only after a moment, he would realize he had awoken from another nightmare.

After one such session with the Red Death, he decided not to eat or drink. He was not supposed to be alive. He became obsessed with this thought. After few days, he thought he had succeeded, and his strange life would end.

He did not succeed, as one day another dragon arrived into his cave. After a short struggle, the strange dragon forced him to bite a freshly hunted piece of deer. Through the bleary image Toothless did not recognise the one who helped him, but Hiccup did.

Toothless devoured the game, in the end. He knew that he could not return to that sense of serenity he had before. And he realized that he valued life too much to reject it.

Exposed to his lie, another feeling begun to rise in him: anger. Slowly it built with every meeting with the Red Death, every confusing thought or emotion which he encountered.

Then the environment began irritating him because it reminded him of all he had lost. He started spending more time outside the Nest, only returning when summoned. It was still not enough to satiate his rising rage.

One day, Toothless flew to another part of the island where he normally did not venture. He saw what appeared to be a nest and a young-looking Nadder protecting a few eggs. The Nadder hissed at the Fury.

_Hissed._

It triggered something terrible and wonderful in Toothless' perspective. All those years of mistreatment, torture and agony were released as the black dragon lost control of himself.

The next thing he knew, he had a blood-soaked limb in his mouth and a mutilated Nadder's corpse beneath his legs.

Toothless grinned, exactly in the same way as the Red Death.

For a moment, the Fury felt better. That brief explosion of violence had calmed his mind. But only for a moment. He would do anything to get rid of the tormenting thoughts and emotions.

Anything.

He needed more.

He began looking for battle, first sneaking around caves which housed the Monstrous Nightmares who had attacked his sister on the day she had been murdered.

He slit the first Nightmare's throat during his sleep. Toothless did not know if his claws were long or sharp enough for the task, so he made sure to slice the neck and repeat until the head was removed from the body. It was a clumsy kill.

But it made him feel better.

His way of thinking changed. He was no longer so fearful, and so he began analysing his enemies. He trained himself harder than before, gaining as much as he could to fulfil his desire for revenge.

For another kill, he chose a night attack. His target was a cave full of young Nightmares who had been left unsupervised.

Hiccup would never forget the events which transpired in that cave and how much he would have given to forget them.

Hiccup knew the Fury could kill and was dangerous. But for the first time, the Viking could observe first-hand just _how_ dangerous. And how cruel he was. And how much enjoyment Toothless experienced while murdering.

And yet, to the Fury, it was not enough.

A wicked scheme entered the Fury's mind. Why should he follow and search all of those guilty if he could ask the one being who knew everybody's thoughts?

Not aware of how much he was grinning, he presented the idea of finding all those who had hurt his family and destroying them to the Red Death. It laughed in its unnaturally human-like laughter, Toothless made sure to smile in exactly the same way as the demon he wanted a favour from.

Without any warning, Toothless' will disappeared and replaced by one greater than his own.

His awareness awakened as he stood by his favourite spot on the beach, surrounded by what appeared to be every living dragon who had ever been on the island. They had been summoned to this spot by the Red Death and waited his command.

Toothless waited for the Red Death to point the guilty ones for him.

It never happened. Instead, Toothless felt a tug in his mind, a gentle press against a part of his mind he did not possess before.

It was all that he needed.

His body went limp for a moment and then rose into the air on his own as the air warped and twisted around the not-Fury. Toothless' eyes opened as his body brimmed and hummed with power. There was nothing he could not achieve, nothing which would not bind to him. He did not need for any of the guilty to step forward.

He would kill all of them!

All around him, dragon bodies began floating upwards against their will, struggling and roaring in surprise and terror. Hundreds of them, suspended against their will, fought, not understanding or knowing what was happening.

Toothless knew what to do; he had seen it happening many times before.

To say that he did not gain pleasure from what he was about to do was a lie. Hiccup felt exactly what the Fury felt, and the boy realized with a deep plunge of his heart just what kind of creature he had befriended.

A gentle tug was all Toothless needed.

The sky blackened with red as the hundreds of bodies exploded at the same time.

The ocean now looked like a sea of blood.

The Red Death laughed.

* * *

As quickly as the surge of power came, it disappeared and Toothless rose from the ground, his whole body caked in blood and gore. He attempted to summon the sensation he felt before to no avail.

He looked in the air, seeing dozens of dragons escaping, all in different directions.

Guilty, they were all guilty!

Shakily, he rose in the air and followed the first target.

Too weak to fly faster than the enemy he followed, patiently, fuelled by hatred and anger.

And that was how the rest of his life appeared to be. Following those who he blamed. Sometimes he hid and then attacked. Sometimes he attacked directly. He tracked and attacked through snow and sand, forests and flat lands covered in tall grass, through waters and mountains. He fought and killed, leaving trail of bloody footprints behind him as he walked, flew or limped away from another corpse.

They were _all_ guilty and he would find them all!

All those years, a sweet, little, almost insignificant voice whispered sweetly into his ear, directing him and guiding. And over those, Toothless changed. No more was a he scrawny, weak and fearful dragon, but a relentless, powerful killer.

The whisper did not last forever, however. It became more and more infrequent, until one day it disappeared completely. Without it, the dragon's hatred could not be fuelled anymore. The hatred twisted into uncertainty, then into anguish and, finally, despair.

After a long journey, he was on the cusp of his mission to kill all the guilty. All but one Nightmare remained.

And time passed forward…

Looking from the cliff's edge, covered in blood and sand, the dragon now known as Shade saw the dusk reflecting from the water, painting it in bloody red.

It was time to return home. For what reason, he did not know, as he would never win over the fear of facing the one truly responsible.

Shade beat his wings and soared towards the sunset.

* * *

Hiccup let out a nonexistent breath, as if hundreds of years passed, as the unnaturally-long hand lifted from his head.

"Now you can see, human. There was never a Toothless. There was never anything like what you called a friend. There was only a vile creature created to serve me," the second Hiccup chuckled, his eyes now glowing in the dark," I created him. As his creator, it is only natural he would worship me. Isn't that the general belief for you humans? To be owned by the one who you think created you?"

He gave a disgustingly twisted and wide grin," Actually, I can create whatever you want. I can give you anything. Anything! There was never Toothless, there was only me!" He shouted.

Hiccup did not think it was possible for him to keep resisting the Death. He felt broken, defeated, spent beyond any limits he knew possible. Yet, to his amazement, his hand was still able to shoot out and grab the monster's hand. The grip was so strong, it crushed the Red Death-Hiccup's hand bones with a dry crackling sound. The Red Death's eye widened in surprise.

Hiccup, despite everything, smiled slightly.

"And you did not finish the story, my friend," Hiccup said darkly as his green eyes shone.

He forced the second Hiccup's devastated hand to touch his head again.

He felt glimpses. Fear. Panic of being shot down during an island raid. Pain and fever in a canyon. Healing. A visitor in the canyon. Then uncertainty, hesitation, anger, acceptance. The impulse of something deep to cherish the one who had destroyed his connection to the skies and yet exchanged it for something even more irreplaceable. And something even more precious.

"**NO!**"The Red Death shouted with power, ripping his devastated hand out of Hiccup's grasp.

The motion knocked Hiccup onto his back where he lay for a moment, his eyes closed. He wished to be united with his friend, to be where his friend was.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw he lay beneath a brilliant blue sky. He was on a grey beach where the elements and the bones of his friend's ancestors mixed with the sand.

The Red Death/second Hiccup was there as well, hugging his broken hand close to his chest, his face one of utter hatred and rage. Hiccup was surprised that someone with a face as mild as his could look so menacing and fearful, but the Red Death proved everything was possible, it seemed.

"You cannot escape me, mortal!" He sneered, spitting with a broken half-smile," You know by now that I can bring the dead back to life! I _know_ what you want, what you desire, more than anything else. Even more than your friend!" The Death yelled victoriously, grinning through his pain.

"I know," Hiccup said quietly from where he lay.

The Red Death/second Hiccup took a step towards the unmoving youth. The look on his face changed to one full of pity and wary compassion.

"This must be a hard moment for you. You've been through so much in a short amount of time. I can completely understand how frustrated and upset you are. The truth is never easy. You feel betrayed by the bestiality your so-called 'friend' showed. You feel hurt and wonder if you made a mistake by not killing the dragon when you had the chance! But you can make things right again. And in more ways than one! You can get back the person you loved the most and also destroy that wicked creature! All you have to do…," the Red Death feverishly breathed out," …All you have to do is to bow before me."

Hiccup looked back quietly. He remained quiet for a while. Then, without a word first, he half-sat up, then rose to his legs. He moved as stiffly as a puppet, as though he was unused to being on two legs again.

He haltingly approached the Red Death, his eyes full of resignation. The Red Death observed his motion with barely-concealed delight. Right before Hiccup came before the Red Death, he took a long look into his eyes and then fell onto his knees.

The Red Death sighed in ecstasy through a half-lidded expression. He bent over the boy. His shadow fell over the youth, and even though the Red Death was in human form, his shadow expanded out in the Red Death's beast shape. The Red Death raised his good hand over Hiccup's head.

And then—

-Hiccup's hands clenched on its throat like a pair of iron pincers.

"I thought really hard how to defeat you," Hiccup spat as he lifted the Red Death's body above the sand, suddenly amazingly easy to do in this dream world.

"I was drifting between hopelessness and my desire to have my mother back. My mother!" He yelled into the face of death," And you know what? I realized then that it was impossible to outsmart you. You are stronger, you know my thoughts and my intentions. You are greater than me in every-"

Hiccup squeezed the throat harder," -single,-"

The Red Death wheezed, looking down at him with hatred.

"—way!"

Hiccup grinned wickedly," But you lack one thing, _Reddy_. You are _not _human. You can understand my desires and thoughts, but you cannot comprehend what guides me. I want to have back m-my mother," his broke shook as tears streamed down his face," I want it more than anything in the world. Anything!" His grip shook with his laboured breaths.

"I want it more than anything in the world...and I am not going to do this" Hiccup said, hesitation disappearing completely from his eyes. The Red Death did not show any sign of pain as the boy's hands crushed him with a new energy.

"I will throw away everything I want and believe in. I'll do it to save this broken and pitiful creature, because I am what I am. I answer to my nature, just as you answer to yours."

Hiccup compressed harder and, finally, the spine broke and the Red Death's body humanoid hung limply in Hiccup's grasp.

He threw it aside, drawing long, sharp breaths. A soft chuckle emanated from his lowered head. It turned to laughter and then to bellowing mirth.

Deep inside of him, he knew the struggle was not over. Nothing that happened here was happening in the real world. He could not kill the Red Death in reality.

The imposer's humanoid body now hovered above the sand, its bones cracking as it revived itself. The monster lowered itself, feet settling to the sand.

Its eyes. Gods, its eyes! They spoke of eons of existence. No longer hateful, they looked with such a great distance between the boy and itself that it made Hiccup feel as like an insignificant speck before it. Hiccup, for a moment, felt shameful for rejecting the Red Death's offer.

"**I don't...**," the being spoke with the force of a thousand voices. In an instant its shape shifted from clone of Hiccup to a terrible beast. Large as a mountain, it towered over him, six eyes glaring at the human.

**_I DON'T WANT YOU ANYMORE_**

* * *

Seven's hand did not twitch as the Fury-shaped body moved suddenly. Something bulged beneath its hide, twisting and sliding like tentacles. In response, an electric surge surrounded the woman's forearm, quickly forming into rings around the floating peg, which now had begun changing colour to a bright yellow from the heat produced. All that was left now was to release it.

"It is losing its physical containment. The mission was a failure," she said without any hint of emotions.

"Not yet," the Nadder stated calmly from the side," it has not ended yet. They are still fighting."

Seven looked ahead, the peg's structure already white-hot. If discharged, the sheer amount of pressure following the projectile would ionise the air and create a plume of plasma. The impact would be equivalent to a small asteroid crashing on the surface. The cave's dome would defect some of the shockwave back, intensifying the force before it would explode in fiery fragments.

Yet the Red Death would most certainly survive the explosion, even if Hiccup didn't.

"Leave the area. I will wait until the second-born loses its current physical boundaries completely," Seven announced placidly.

The Nadder stood up and cracked his neck.

"They will succeed," he whistled confidently. He heard the usual ambiguous answer.

"Noted."

* * *

Hiccup could barely see more than the tip of the muzzle, spiked with ancient shell and bone fragments.

"Well!," He shouted jovially up to the behemoth," At least, you finally look healthy. Bones not showing so much and a total lack of exploded body matter has done wonders for your complexion! Can you hear me, anyway? My throat is getting a bit sore here!"

The Red Death roared in response and lifted its leg above the boy who did not stop his grin as he remained steady beneath the monster.

**_BOW TO ME AND YOU SHALL LIVE_**

"I really like this new voice of yours, Reddy! So deep and full of forceful authority simply...epic. You should narrate sagas. You would make a great bard," Hiccup shielded his eyes to look better into the grey mass looking down at him.

The enormous leg did not drop on him and Hiccup dropped the act, his face becoming sombre and indifferent.

"Reddy, the truth is that you cannot exist without me; that's why you took me with you. That's why you did not want me to see Toothless' memories after meeting me. That's why you attempted to bribe me with my mother, you monster!" he snarled as his eyes glistened threateningly, " For you, life has no value, no significance, even your own. Emotions and motivations are a mere echo against a dead skull before you. An empty skull, exactly as the one rotting just outside this cage between the others you murdered."

The Red Death lowered its head until it was right next to the human's.

Hiccup continued, "Despite all your power and ancient age, your existence will leave nothing behind. There will be nothing for others to remember or take value from. There will be no song of mourning for you.

"You can only take, control and destroy. You exist for yourself only, and I hate you as much as I pity you."

They measured themselves with their gazes for a moment, both unable to understand each another.

**_LOWER BEING. I SHALL BREAK YOU AND USE YOU TO CONTINUE MY OWN EXISTENCE. YOU _****WILL_ BOW TO ME AND BE MINE_**

**_MINE… OR NO ONE ELSE'S_**

Hiccup raised his hand as he had done when he had killed the Viking by his burning house. That memory seemed so long ago.

"You still do not understand my nature, 'Higher' Being. You are terrified of me. When Toothless hurt himself not to bite me, it was actually part of you which made him do that. If you destroy me, Toothless would not be able to exist without me, and that means you would not exist. You know that, and you are afraid of me," his resolve steeled," because I can destroy you."

The Red Death's eyes widened as Hiccup felt, finally, something he could relate to from the enemy. Fear.

The beast roared with ear-crushing power, his call splitting the sky. His shape shimmered. Hiccup no longer saw the monstrous creature, but a humanoid being of unblemished light standing next to him. It felt so _pure_.

Pure in its desire to destroy and conquer.

Hiccup saw worlds outside his own, glimpses of knowledge both breath-taking and terrifying. He saw possibilities beyond his comprehension. It was there, so close. It seemed, if he reached through the light, he might obtain them.. He had to reach the light. It was the Truth.

He reached his hand out and almost did touched it. In the last moment, he saw how the light pulsated, flickering like a bluish-white fire. It reminded him of something he had lost and gained. He smiled sadly.

"I really admire you, Reddy, in a sense," he said quietly," And I really feel inferior to you, being so small and weak. How would the struggle of a single human compare to an infinity of possibilities? My fight will be forgotten, lost with time."

He sighed and shook his head, "Well, the infinity might not care, but I do," he touched the light, not to accept it but to push it away. He noticed, with some irony, the light had been aligned right where a human heart should be.

Hiccup watched the light stream away as he ended his commentary with a simple statement of truth of his own.

"Red Death, I wish you to disappear."

The being of light screamed shrilly, its essence flicked out. It reached for Hiccup but could not reach far enough. Its body shattered in a bright flash and then disappeared, leaving a last, disembodied message.

**_MINE_**

**_MINE OR NOONE ELSE'S_**

The victor looked upwards to the unmoving sky and took a deep breath of nonexistent air. He savoured this simple moment that was free from thought.

There was still work to be done, he knew that. But he also knew he was now the one in control, he was strong. This was not arrogance; it was a necessary fact.

He filled his lungs fully and then blew all the hypothetical air towards the sky. The time-frozen clouds immediately started to move. He smiled to himself as time began flowing once more.

Not so much knowing as feeling what had to be done, he stepped into the dark ocean. Knee-deep, he let himself fall forward into the small waves. The waters closed above him. Impenetrable darkness surrounded him, and he began descending into the lightless abyss.

He calmly sank to a place where things were forgotten, feeling himself dissolve slowly into nothingness.

As he drifted downwards, he reached out and grasped something. Smooth scales bit into his fingers as he tightened his hold. Grinning widely as unbounded happiness filled him, Hiccup mightily pushed his friend's body upwards toward the surface, trading positions with him.

He travelled downwards through the silent absolute.

Their places exchanged, Toothless drifted to the surface. His now-freed mind once more in place, Toothless could again take control of his inner universe.

Hiccup let himself continue drifting away.

_See you around, buddy_

In the shallow waters of a dark ocean, partially submerged on a grey beach where elements mixed with bones, lay the body of an adult Night Fury .

The sun was coming down.

* * *

Hiccup opened his eyes. They hurt sharply, as if he had not used them for many years. His body was weak and thirsty for rest. A pair of hands caught his unsteady back.

"Well done," a proud, gentle voice spoke behind him.

"It's good to be back," he said hoarsely.

Seven lifted his limp body in her hands.

"I would love nothing more right now than to hear how you just achieved the impossible. However, I am sure you need to rest first," she told him, smiling with pride.

"No… not yet," Hiccup said to her, surprising her further," But I need to do one more thing...I need to. Please," he whispered.

Seven made a decision quickly," What do you need?"

"To get inside the mountain. I need to see somebody," the young man said.

Without a word, the armour-clad woman turned her head where the horizon was.

"The sun will rise soon. I need to return to the village. Aeon!" She shouted into the darkness.

"Aeon? That's his name?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"It's not his real one, mind you. It's sort of a joke, really. It means 'ageless' since nobody knows his real age. It's a nickname of sorts, yes...well, maybe not exactly. But something like it. Mostly..." she trailed off.

Hiccup lost consciousness for a moment. When he was next aware of things, he found himself lying across a blue-scaled dragon's back. Seven was looking up at him.

"I will take care of Toothless. Aeon will take you whenever you want him to go," she squeezed his hand gently," Take care of yourself, Hiccup," she ordered.

The boy half-smiled. "Let's go, Aeon. Inside the mountain," With that, they were gone into the night.

Seven watched them fly away. It was another part of the journey to complete. She considered how Hiccup's eyes had changed, even though he probably did not realise it. They spoke of years of experience beyond his own, of pain and strength.

None had ever come back unchanged from such an experience as the youth had completed . She would enjoy hearing its story.

* * *

The Nadder flew through almost pure blackness. Hiccup could see nothing, yet the Viking youth felt as though he had spent his whole life inside the volcano's bowels. He knew exactly where to turn and where to ascend and descend. And he directed the dragon with total ease.

"To the left, to the main chamber," he said, almost mumbling. Strangely, enough, his words were not lost to the wind as the dragon changed his direction. Even though he was exhausted, he now had sat up so he was riding astride the Nadder as if he had been born to ride dragons.

The dragon made another turn. There it was, exactly as in Hiccup's memories: the enormous cavern, filled with yellowish glow from the pit. Yet there were no bones; none except for those belonging to one unfortunate creature.

"Over there, to the remains," Hiccup spoke, shifting his weight slightly. Aeon complied and they landed with a rush back of wings. With a bit of help, Hiccup stepped down. Aeon braced him as he landed, taking up the lack of balance from Hiccup's missing leg. Using the drake's shoulder as a support, Hiccup moved forward.

"Thanks," he acknowledged. He heard a nonchalant snort in reply.

When the duo reached the bone pile, Hiccup dropped to his knees. The bones were disorganised, lying on each other. They barely resembling the shape they used to support. They were a sick yellow from the sulphurous air that had eroded them for centuries.

Hiccup took off the white gloves Seven had given him. With utmost respect, his fingers trailed a rib's edge until it ended sharply in the cavity right where they have been. An oval head lay detached from the body, hollow eye sockets dark and expressionless.

Hiccup wanted to feel something, as if he had come here in memory of the pitiful creature who had died here long ago. He would have thought in this way just few hours ago. Now, he felt as if he was about to talk to nothing, just an empty pile of bones.

The truth was that he had come here for himself. He wanted to touch the insane truth for himself, to put his finger into a wound and, by doing so, leave the world he knew well behind him.

It all really came down to one point, Hiccup realized. Toothless, or his original progenitor - Hiccup was not sure how to identify what he was- had actually died.

And yet Hiccup felt nothing: no grief, no sadness. This was a corpse; there was no point in feeling anything towards it. It would be like crying over a stone.

However, he felt more than enough disgust for the very idea of a beast that have slain another living creature and recreated it to serve its own purposes better.

"I must thank you, Aeon," he averted his head to the blue dragon, who bent his muzzle to see him better," It was you who fed him. It was you who gave him a reason to stay alive. I thank you for that."

Hiccup bowed his head. The Nadder, after a moment of pause, slightly lowered his own head, as well, in acknowledgement. Hiccup smiled at the gesture, realizing this was a rare gesture from Aeon. Then he felt a shudder of anger.

"That being, the Red Death, it really _could_ create life! It makes me furious, Aeon," an angry note crept into the Viking youth's tone," The Red Death creates life, but it's a mockery of life. Laughter at...at," he paused and chuckled darkly," the _sanctity _of life. If life can be created just on a whim, there is no appreciation for that life."

He was silent, as another thought rose in him.

"Then there's the end of life: death. It's strange, but I realise now that there is nothing special about it. Death is not sacred. I've seen it so often in my life, but I still always clung to the Viking ideal that a well-earned death in battle was something I should look forward to. A reward for bravery; the lucky Vikings are the ones who die young and in battle. They are the only ones who can look forward to Valhalla and its so-called pleasures. The curse is to die old and weak and in bed. We Vikings only see the only real purpose of life is how we die. And I used to believe that wholeheartedly. "

The Nadder's normally bored expression changed into one of attentiveness as he saw the steely glint in the boy's green eyes.

"But, now I know. Death is nothing. All deaths are nothing, and it doesn't matter how you die. There is nothing to look for, nothing. You end up dying in your own piss and shit, whether it's in your bed or on a battlefield with a hole in your chest."

Hiccup looked down at the Night Fury bones," The Red Death tried to break me, to make me submit to despair and long for a false hope. Instead of doing so, the struggle has made me stronger. I no longer fear death, nor do I want any reward for dying. It 's all an illusion. What matters the most is what I do with this fleeting moment of consciousness that's my life. And I was lazy, Aeon. I was damn lazy with my life, always living for a fantasy and afraid of making hard choices."

Hiccup's hand reached up, searched and found the scaled dragon's shoulder. Grasping it, lifted himself upwards.

"Talking to the dead won't change anything. But sometimes it does make people feel better for a moment. I guess it's a kind of closure."

But instead of talking, Hiccup quietly looked at the every curve of the scattered bones, memorising all the details. These were just bones. He knew Toothless was still alive in a different sort of way, and Toothless would be there for him, every step along the away.

"Burn it, please. It fills me with pain," Hiccup said quietly, his fists clenching.

A bright yellow flame erupted and consumed the bones. They hissed and spoke of long-lost memories, turning to dust before the living beings' eyes.

Hiccup felt better. There was nothing more he could do for the deceased in life, and he was remembering someone other the remains in front of him.

The main thing he could do, now, for the deceased was to remember them. Memorise their life in songs and stories.

But still-

That unfortunate dragon. Poor, poor creature. It was just dust now, nothing but a memory. Its brutal death had happened centuries ago, and Hiccup had not been alive to even attempt to prevent it.

He felt better.

So why he did he still feel like crying?

"Let's go home," he said quietly, donning his gloves. He quickly wiped his eyes, getting rid of the dust.

They flew away from that cursed place, away to light and warmth, life and comfort. This cavern was not the place for them and never would be.

* * *

Hiccup stepped down from the Nadder, stepping onto the snowy ground right behind his house. A person waited for him at the steps leading him to his house.

"Good morning, Seven," he greeted as Aeon helped him to walk

"Hello, Hiccup," she said cheerfully, her eyes looking carefully into his eyes. Whatever she saw in them, she did not comment on it.

A neatly folded pile of clothes waited on her lap, " Here, let me help you," she suggested, taking over from the dragon and leading the boy towards his house and room.

Hiccup, at the door, turned back to the blue-scaled dragon and bowed once more. This time he received a clear, deep bow.

Other than Hiccup and Seven, the house was empty of inhabitants. Seven kept herself busy by putting more logs into the diminutive fire. Nobody had tended to it that night or early morning. Hiccup sat on his bed and changed into his old clothes. He hoped, but he did not think he would be able to keep all the gear Seven had given him. Seven kept her head turned, as if in some sense of modesty.

"I'm done," Hiccup spoke from the bed.

"Wonderful. Oh, don't worry about folding," she glanced back to see he had done exactly so," I prefer to fold clothes myself."

The garments levitated towards her and begun disappearing one by one.

"It's awfully quiet for this time of the morning. What did you do?" Hiccup said cautiously.

The red eyes did not meet his as the last of the blood-spotted material dematerialised.

"Aeon's taking the route around the village was a giveaway, I see. As to what I did, I saved your village, once again. The person responsible for this strange state of affairs is in my custody," Seven said and sat at the edge of the bed. She quietly looked at Hiccup.

"I am not your enemy," she stated, searching to meet his eyes. She found them very quickly.

"You are not exactly my ally, either," he answered immediately.

Seven looked down . Neither spoke for a moment.

"Seven, I don't think you've stayed here merely to keep me company. Can we get to the serious part of conversation, please? I need to rest, but I need to know this before I do," the boy said coldly, although without any malice.

The white-haired head quickly turned to him. In one quick motion, he was swept into a strong embrace. Hiccup passively let himself be held although, after a moment, against his own better wishes, he melted into it.

Her breath tickled his ear.

"You might think you are better, Hiccup. You might think you're stronger through these experiences and have more power to control your life better," the hug strengthened," The truth is, no one is invulnerable, no matter how powerful you might be, how wise or prepared. Alone, we can do nothing," she whispered into his ear. Keeping him in her embrace for longer than it was necessary, she finally released him and stood up.

"You can talk to your friends about me, about Aeon, about how suspicious and distrustful you are of me. But do not talk about what you saw in the memory-quest. Some truths are too dangerous, to be shared. There is one creature, however, who is more than adequate to talk about," the woman said, standing at her full, towering height.

"Have a good rest," she said shortly and prepared to leave.

"Seven," Hiccup called as she touched the door's handle," Are you the same breed of creature like the Red Death? Are you also here to eventually bring destruction and demise?" He asked sharply.

For the first time, the youth saw the mysterious woman's face contort into fury.

She hissed, almost with a draconic twist to it," Do _not _compare me to that abomination. It was a twisted and abhorrent transgression of his kind," she relaxed after a deep breath," I am not of its kind, but I do have a part of it in me."

She finished, almost weakly," I am not here to bring destruction, only...only death follows me whenever I go. Good night."

Hiccup lay down, alone in his room, thoughts screaming in his mind, images and memories, all surfacing and scratching, wanting to be seen. Yes, surprisingly, he fell asleep almost immediately, silencing them all. A brief moment of peace, a well-deserved rest.

* * *

She flipped the container to catch it deftly in her hand and continued playing with it whilst looking at the freshly rising sun. Heavy steps sounded behind her as Aeon passed through the camouflaged wall and onto the small stone shelf Seven occupied. Without a word, she handed him the container. He grabbed it in his claws.

"Here's the antidote for the village population. Squeeze it to break the seal. Distribute it evenly," she instructed.

The Nadder did not miss her unusual stiffness of voice and posture. Akil, hummed a tuneless song, lying in the background.

"He has became annoyingly interesting, hasn't he?" Aeon asked, not receiving any answer.

Seven stood up and headed back into the complex.

"What now?" Aeon asked.

Seven swiped her hair absent-mindedly, her natural behaviour returning. She looked back at the village.

"I think I had better start packing," she huffed," I hate packing."

The Nadder snorted and then leapt off the ground. To take care of his task.

* * *

A dark dragon-like body stirred, fighting to awake. Large lungs took a deep breath, as if it was the first. Toothless' body stirred and his eyelids opened. A set of new, grey eyes look a look at the world awaiting him.

* * *

AN: That's it! That's it for the chapter, but not for the story.

It is the true beginning for both Hiccup and Toothless, something I planned on writing two years ago.

I guess the previous part was not really popular. I know this story will never be most reviewed or discussed as it is not a type of story which can be popular with most demographic of fanfiction which are...well young teens. I aim the story, truthfully, at young adults/adult teens aaaand the plot will not get any simpler. I am generalising here, of course, horribly to that.

I believe that you write to show your thoughts, it is as a conversation with a reader, hey, look at what is inside my mind, I want to show you something. This chapter is where I just let go of all the barriers and just let write about what I really wanted about. My goal with this whole story is to make you, yes you, think. About new idea, possibilities, character dilemmas, world and personal problems. I would really wish to know what made you stay with me for over 2 years and more than 400.000 words. I enjoy praise, but there is something more important in it. A simple truth of how do I do as a writer in your eyes. Who would any writer be without his or her readers. Alone, we are nothing.

I hope this chapter is better as it brings closure to a lot of plot points. Therefore here is the question. Should I continue the story as a new book or continue it here? Personally I would prefer to continue it here as I would not lose all of the followers since I want as much feedback as possible.

As always, anything anyone wants to use from the story as long as it is for non-commercial purposes it can be used. No need to credit me (I am not Enchantable- it was jab at her from me in one of my silly stories...the noir-themed one, at her for making a big deal of usage name Bluebell in her story for a Nadder. Shortly, another author used this name in his/her story for a Nadder as well and she saw it as UNACCEPTABLE! and she and her friends left a few nasty reviews, demanding the author to stop using the name. Unacceptable indeed). As long as you have fun and I can help, I am happy.

I forgot to mention those before. To anyone wanting to write about it, here's my writer's challenge:

I had an idea for a longer time to describe past between Gobber and Hiccup and how their screwed up, but warm relationship started. In The Truth Gobber has his darker past where he served as one of the most distinguished soldiers known as Gobber the Berserker. He killed, yes he did and he was damn good at it. But after the Tribal War he had lost his hand...and then part of his leg. Devastated an extremely skilled warrior turned to a bitter invalid. Since Gobber had some blacksmith training outside his warrior's career (yes, all Berkians can do things outside swinging swords and axes, keep it real people) he opens a blacksmith shop and then comes Hiccup...a six years old, burned bundle of depression with partial loss of memory. Challenge is here- I can see Hiccup and Gobber help each other through the years, both broken in some ways, but both finding comfort in each other company.

I can see here plenty of room of excellent character development and drama. If you want more details PM me.

Since we talk about character's past, the first part in the Bridges, my another story about Stoick's childhood is head-canon for the Truth is a Shard of Ice.

Lastly, if you want me to review a story or help anyone with plot or character development PM me ( Message, not leave a review please if you want to do this, reviews are for story feedback only). I think it is time I will give something back to the community. Take care.


	40. Trapped in the Past

**AN: Update 16.02.2014- Thank you very much to Eyes Wide Open 2010 for being my editor for this chapter (and possibly the next). Please support this guy, awesome does not come around often. Happy reading.**

* * *

Hiccup sniffed the air cautiously.

The woods were full of rich, almost overwhelming smells. A mundane odour of decaying plants and the intoxicating trail of injured flesh mixed with the scent of the moist earth accentuated by a heavy rain.

Above all, it smelled of the hunt and promised excitement. The guilty was near.

He moved swiftly between the brushes, not stirring a leaf. The moon shone brightly as everything appeared crisp and glowing with a subtle white outline. His sharp eyes discerned a tiny drop of blood immediately against a rough tree trunk. More of the liquid shone on a delicious path towards the forest as he pursued his quarry.

The guilty was tiring. It would not be long before it would lie down and wait for death to come. He had sliced the artery, all he did was one little nip beneath the front armpit and then ran away. In a direct confrontation he would not have stood a chance. Saving his own strength was the key to win.

As he hid beneath a tree trunk, a gust of air wafted over him, providing new information. He purred softly with content.

The hunter, without attempting to conceal himself any further, stepped into a small clearing. Continuing to purr with delight, Hiccup moved closer to the dying Gronckle.

The armoured chest moved with difficulty, struggling for every breath. The grass and moss beneath the fallen dragon were wet with dew and blood as the crimson pool visibly widened. It was impressive the prey managed to escape for so long. He must have known how to reduce his bleeding with mind-control. Even though he was much more accomplished with it than Hiccup, in the end it did not matter. The one who survived was the one who was more cunning, not stronger.

The Gronckle weakly raised his head, his foamy mouth gaping. The side of his muzzle was crushed immediately as Hiccup did not let his prey offer any resistance.

He was Guilty. They were all Guilty.

With practised ease, his claw found the opening between the scaled plates on the back and with one sudden movement he stabbed his claw inside the victim's spine and swiped to the side, ending the Gronckle's life.

It was another successful kill.

Something, almost imperceptible, whispered sweetly into his ear about danger.

Hiccup had only a brief moment to turn around and learn painfully that the Gronckle was not travelling alone.

Hiccup lunged for an attack with a roar.

In blind rage, he felt himself dropping down and subduing his next target beneath his hold. He raised his clawed paw for the kill.

The terrified face of a woman looked up at him. Who was she? Something changed. The blinding fury evaporated as a mirage…as a bad dream. Hiccup's body relaxed and the hand that he did not realize was raised, dropped calmly.

Ruffnut? That was the woman's name.

She was...who was she?

Friend? She was his friend.

Dragon training? Yes, one he thought of as a friend.

He remembered then everything as if pulled back into his body. Noticing that he sat atop of her as she lay on the floor, he smiled. The pale girl's laboured breath turned to a deeper inhalation. Despite the obviously awkward position, Hiccup did not move or say anything.

For a reason the boy did not understand, a clearly visible deep-red blush entered her cheeks and she averted his gaze, looking at the dusty floor almost immediately. Her face hardened and she shoved the male off without a shred of pardon. He fell to his side without as much as a groan.

"Get off me!" She said with contrived power and scrambled to her feet much quicker than necessary. A silence fell between the two, uncomfortable for only one.

"You going to stay there?" She asked after making sure Hiccup was not attempting to get up.

"Possibly, yes. I can barely move my body at all," the boy answered evenly. He looked upward, noticing absent-mindedly the electric static that concealed a purple hide above him.

He seemed content and completely detached as Ruffnut fought with a thousand thoughts. She tried to straighten her brown jacket, lamenting over the stench of dried leather she still thought she smelled over her washed body.

Since when did she care about her appearance so much? She knew the answer, of course.

"I attacked you. I'm sorry. I had a bad dream," Hiccup recited. It was a good thing to say. Decent.

It caused all embarrassment to disappear.

Ruffnut was not moved by the apology itself, but the tone of it. How it was neutral and indifferent. She paid more attention to the boy and wished she could tell the same about him. He simply lay there, not even blinking.

"Hiccup, you all right?" She asked tentatively, moving closer. He did not answer, not immediately. His eyes did not stir as if there was something more interesting up there. Then his pupils slowly drifted towards her, yet he still did not look directly at her. He looked through her. Ruffnut did not know what she saw in his eyes, she was not great at reading emotions. Perhaps it was because Hiccup's face expressed nothing at all.

She was not a social butterfly and she did not know what to do in most situations involving large groups. However, she knew from her experience with her war-filled life in Berk and dealings with an alcoholic mother that when somebody falls and does not stand up immediately, she felt she had to help.

Swallowing her shame and her cheeks still flush, she scooped Hiccup as a child in her arms. He was surprisingly light. She could smell him, the tangible taste of sweat and long-worn clothes, of ash and pain and tenacity.

He was slightly smaller than her, she recalled. How he looked...as she felt how bony his hands and shoulders were against her chest, how the hands and legs dangled limply, one of which was not even whole.

A lump in her throat rose, one she swallowed immediately. She deposited him gently on the bed. It was hurtful. It pained her just to look at him. It made her feel angry, at everything, him and at herself.

She wanted to run from that stifling house, from the smell of illness and slowly dying stagnation. As she was about to turn a hand stopped her, grasping her wrist with surprising strength.

"Ruff...," Hiccup wheezed before taking a deeper breath. "Don't go," he pleaded. "I need to tell you something...before my mind can move on again."

Move on. She did not like what she heard. The tone, the eyes which for some reason instead of making her feel happy, scared her. But she stayed. Her emotions wanted her to stay. She ripped her hand from his grip.

"What?" She snapped, more aggressively than she felt, dropping her frame to the stool next to the bed.

It took a longer moment for Hiccup to gather his thoughts.

"You...are...were you real?" He asked at first, scaring the young woman further.

"Hiccup wha-" she never finished that sentence.

"I remember, Ruff." The green eyes with sudden focus looked into her and she knew _exactly_ what her friend was talking about. "I remember how my mother died," he said it naturally, as if he did not care much, or was at peace with it somehow. "You were there, in my memory. You were there...you were there, weren't you?"

The blonde silently worked over words she wanted to utter. She was worried, she wanted to tell that bony sack of pain with breath-taking eyes to stuff his mysterious act and spill what was on his mind.

On the other hand, she was not certain as if she really wanted to know.

She tried to relax on the uncomfortable seat. "I was made to promise that I wouldn't say anything," she said. "All I saw was you and...and the bodies."

Hiccup nodded in agreement.

"No need to hide it anymore, right?" She continued in a sudden need to say something more. "You were there...lying and smouldering, silent. I remember you did not cry. Not at first. That's...that's what I remember and then they took you. That's when you started crying and they- your father one of them- made me promise and...and that's it."

That was it. That was her epiphany over Hiccup's moment when tragedy struck his family. It was the best she could have done, considering the circumstances. She was never good with words and even worse with emotions. It was expected of a Viking to be this way. After seeing so much death, a person adapted to it. They all did.

She wanted this moment to be special; she wanted to feel more towards this moment, just as she felt at the death of her father. Of the two, she felt more towards Hiccup's past. It was still not much.

She thought she had forgotten about it as if blurred between all the other deaths. However, she always remembered that scene, of a silent boy lying in front of a burning house.

She did not tell anyone as she promised. Even though she was never too keen on keeping promises this one seemed special to her.

She remembered even when Hiccup simply disappeared from the village's life for more than half of his life, appearing only to break havoc, eat or go to the smithy and blurt out immediate excuses afterwards along with his sarcasm-filled comments.

Hiccup stopped looking at her and his head slightly dropped; going back to whatever world he lived. He was going crazy, although probably not the good kind of crazy, but the downright terrifying one.

She lost all hope on getting comfortable on the hard piece of wood and, finally, she regained her composure.

"Hiccup!" She almost shouted. The young men blinked in brief surprise and looked back at her. "What _the fuck_ is going on?"

It took a moment for Hiccup to analyse the question. Too much happened for far too long even though in the outside world only a part of the night passed. How long was he trapped in memories, most of them not his own.

Berk, everything "real"...It was just _so long ago_.

"I don't...," he considered his next words carefully. "I am not myself now..."

_And most probably would never be again_, a rational part of him whispered.

"I need..." He lost the flow of the words again. What did he need? He was not sure if he was hungry or thirsty. He was nether angry or full of sorrow. Even as his friend looked at him with such an intense gaze, he did not feel any sort of connection.

He wanted to feel the soft texture of grey sand beneath him and just look at the misty horizon. Just look…and wither away.

"I need to talk to Gobber. Can you fetch him for me... please?" Hiccup suddenly spoke clearly without stopping once, nor looking back at Ruffnut.

She had enough.

The stool fell backwards with a clatter as she sprung to her feet. "Is this that dragon again, you must've lost your damned mind if—"

"When Toothless returns," his calm voice cut right through her furious speech like a well-honed blade. "I will confess everything. For now, the village needs me." He looked away from her, again.

Ruffnut found her breath after a longer moment. Her hands shook as her teeth ground against each other. She inhaled deeply and her eyes caught the outline of Hiccup's body through the tunic.

Her breath escaped as a long hiss through her teeth. The boy did not give her any more attention as if she was no longer important; her task done. Instead, he massaged the centre of his chest as if it hurt him. Perhaps it did.

The blonde turned sharply and noticing the fallen stool she kicked it with gusto. It broke to pieces as it struck one of the supporting pillars. Hiccup did not complain. He did not even notice it.

"_Screw you_," Ruffnut said with venom.

She opened main door and slammed it as strongly as she could. She did not care who noticed her leaving the Chieftain's house or that she did not tell anyone, even Stoick, that she would visit his son. Frankly, she came there on her own volition.

She did not reply to a faceless somebody who shouted a greeting as she continued storming ahead, her thoughts in turmoil.

Why him of all people? It was not her to act in this way, it's not like her. She turned into a creep? What did she hope for?

She knew the answers to all those questions, those and many others. She recently asked herself and she hated each and every truth her mind presented. All of them focused back to the bony half-dead boy with the ever-melancholic green eyes and a not-totally-sane mind.

This was not how it was supposed to be. All of this island, all of her life, Vikings and dragons. It was all cursed.

As the villagers were doing everything in their mind to argue and tear the community apart over a war now gone, Ruffnut's life was being torn apart as well.

Her _sober_ mother reunited against Stoick's current dragon-related politics. Her brother closed a deal on a potter workshop without even talking to Snotlout or her and Astrid...

Chaos. It was all chaos.

"Screw you!" She said loudly. It was all his fault. Her life was as disorganised and pathological as it ever was. There was a pattern in that chaos.

Everything was destroyed, her life, her friendships, her family and now her heart.

Angry beyond words, the girl lumbered deeper into the snow-covered village of Berk. Before her, torrents of people all walked in the same direction, to the Council Hall to continue discussing the future of the village and ultimately, their own.

* * *

The door opened with a loud creak. The newcomer closed the door quickly, letting only a handful of snowflakes inside. More snow fell to the floor as Gobber patted his leather jacket.

"Evenin' lad!", he shouted cheerfully towards the bed, seeing the blanket-covered boy sitting upright, looking away. "Ye' would NOT believe who I've had the pleasure a' meetin'," he wobbled forward. "At least I think it was a pleasure. Ruffnut appeared a bit drunk an' wee bit angry as she asked me t' come 'ere," he saw the remains of the stool. "Still partyin' hard, eh? I always told Stoick some of his furniture was a bit tacky!" He sat heavily on the bed, only then gaining the attention of the youth. It appeared that way as Hiccup quickly took his hand away from his chest he was massaging before he looked fearfully at Gobber. The fear quickly turned to a smile as he recognised who just sat next to him.

"Evening, Gobber. Sorry, I did not notice you coming in," Hiccup replied as Gobber merely blinked slowly.

"Aye, sneakiness is my fourth name right after That-Sounded-Weird-What-Is-Going-On-You-Made-Ruffnut-Upset-And-Your-Look-Almost-Made-Me-Change-My-Undies," he said calmly.

Hiccup's smirk never reached his eyes, "That's quite a long name," he quipped.

"At least one thing I have that's long," he joked although nobody laughed.

The bedcovers rustled as Hiccup leaned forward.

"Gobber, are you my father's Advisor?" he asked, straightforward.

"I am his trusty an' loyal companion and I might serve 'im up with som' nice advice...occasionally," the blacksmith replied.

Hiccup's face twisted in confusion. "That is not w-."

"I know what yer asking 'bout. If I am bound to him and yer clan by an oath t' serve. No, lad, I'm not…Why is it important to ye'?" Gobber asked, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

Hiccup leaned back to recline on the headboard, satisfied with the response. "Father is still trying to protect me, this time by concealing the truth about the village situation. My friends have inaccurate knowledge, don't care or do not want to discuss the current events. You are one of the smartest, unbiased and objective persons I know. Also, you play an important part in Berk's politics being a Tribal War hero, Master Blacksmith and a close friend to the Chieftain and his son," Hiccup explained.

"Ye' want information? Alright…" Gobber said, his usual cheerfulness gone. "But if ye' want t' involve yerself with th' political life now, I need to ask ya, what's yer goal?"

Hiccup rubbed the centre of his chest. "I want to end the conflict."

"End th' conflict?" Gobber asked, incredulous. "We ar' Vikings. We live for it. We need something t' fight against and with all threats gone, it is easy for us t' find a new one, ourselves."

"I will come tonight to the meeting. I will talk to my people," Hiccup said confidently.

The one-handed battle trainer kept his face subdued as the boy spoke about _his _people.

"An' if they won't listen," Gobber asked openly.

The young boy's face steeled and his senior felt as if it became suddenly colder in the room.

"Then I will _make_ them listen," Hiccup said grimly.

Gobber was unable to keep his smile hidden. Perhaps a dispute might end without any carnage after all.

* * *

The hall buzzed with activity as leather-clad and fur-wearing silhouettes passed between the light of torches fastened to aged pillars. In the middle of the spacious hall a large bonfire crackled. The dark fumes rose and rolled over dark wood, travelling outside through a narrow smoke hole. From the outside anyone could see the smoke, a signal that the Thing was in session. With few hours left of daylight during the winter season, the smoke was not easy to spot although everybody knew the Thing had not stopped even for a moment from the previous days.

It all started as with all things, small.

Most people explained it in this way: the big dragon was defeated. The big dragon killed many of their warriors, more at once than all the dragons did during their beasty, evil and most importantly uncoordinated raids. The last descriptive item was known to everybody but understood by few.

Dragons came with the Vikings, carrying them back to the village after their ships were finishing burning by the dragon island. Some could say that the very problem began when Stoick decided that the warriors would return by the use of dragons just as the few young Dragon Training graduates showed. Most agreed. Some were optimistic about the whole ordeal, some indifferent, some pessimistic although they all went along with the plan. Some hated the very idea and would prefer to die of thirst on the dragon island than touch their hated enemy. Unfortunately for them, vox populi was to return to Berk and celebrate the end of the war and honour those who fell in glorious battle.

Back in the home village, the discontent, free from the chaos of armed conflict were able to organise themselves better. Whispers started between neighbours, hidden meetings and then open disapproval.

Dragons roamed the streets in dozens, transformed from vicious murderers and thieves to nothing short of docile pets. It was a a show, it must have been. Sometimes the only known Night Fury in existence went for a walk, serving more as an attraction as people of every age swarmed to see the legendary dragon that was most of the time accompanied by a rather plain-looking Deadly Nadder. People were content to just watch, not daring to touch the dark-scaled beast. Other dragons seemed to share the sentiment as wherever Toothless (as the rumour said was the Fury's name) walked, every single one of his kind did everything in their power to run away as soon and as far away as possible.

It ended with a couple of Terrible Terrors. The miniature dragons did not do anything wrong, except existing and occupying space with bipedal humanoids which happened to hate them.

Their crimson and green bodies ended up on the Mead Hall doors, nailed to it. Their bellies cut open and intestines dangling from them.

Stoick and Gobber looked at the display by the light of the torches in the early, chilly morning. They knew how to read injuries and whoever did it, did so for a very specific purpose. The Terrors had their throats roped so tightly they could not whimper or call for help. Stoick saw in his mind them wheezing for a long time as tiny scratches were present on the wood as their paws searched for anything, absolutely anything to free themselves.

It was a signal and no longer could the Chieftain ignore it.

The meetings started and the heat of the battle against the giant, named the Red Death, was not forgotten. People, filled with anger, loss and anguish filled the aged hall. It was not about words or discussion nor was it to solve anything. It was about emotions and a possibility to release them. It was a cleansing.

A thin line held the community together and it was clear that the dragons were in danger.

The next day all the dragons left; almost all of them. The legendary Night Fury was still seen occasionally along with a Nadder. Weird things began to happen. Many weird and evil things.

People who were burned, mangled, and close to death began coming back to health, slowly but surely. It was unnatural. More intelligent Vikings accepted it for what it was and rejoiced. Others turned to their legends and myths for answers. Those who survived were called draugar, the living dead. The village had been cursed, punished.

The sacrifice altar burned once more with flesh and blood. More sheep during that time were sacrificed than eaten, even though a harsh winter approached. Anything and everything was done to appease the Gods. Surely warriors who spilled blood and did everything in their power to protect their homeland and families must have done something wrong. They were guilty, they were all guilty. But of what?

Some reported peculiar sensations as if they lost a sense of time, a sense of sudden dread, heavy steps and when they blinked they found new scratches against a door frame or a floor as if vicious claws scratched it. Elves, feral magic and other theories villagers spun widely added oil to the flame of fear and anger.

It was still controllable. The opposition were not so numerous yet to have a deciding majority at the Thing as the voting was still a few days away.

The fire erupted early in the morning. The sun during the winter season did not honour the sky until mid-afternoon only for a few hours to grace the Berk with its life-giving light.

The door to the Chieftain's house vibrated on its hinges as a heavy hand struck it.

The red-bearded giant of a man stepped down the stairs, nursing an unusual headache with his hand. He had a couple mugs of ale the previous night to help him get through the day although he never expected it to end with such pain. The unending stream of petitors, complainers, whiners, attention-seekers and those genuinely concerned had its toll on him. He was never great with listening and negotiating, just as his father. Whenever he could he thanked Odin for Gobber who was gifted as a people-pleaser and an all-rounded diplomat. Going round and around, he thought as he stopped before the door.

He opened the front door a tad annoyed as the energetic and heavy staccato vibrated it. As he yanked the portal open to an almost absolutely dark morning, he was greeted with a small dose of snow on his face from the peace-disruptor's hand who was preparing another cycle of door-denting punches.

Stoick grumbled something illegible as the snow slowly melted from his nose.

What he did not expect was to see the visitor's face, lit by a torch and not caring the slightest at the village leader's face status. The mitt-covered hand grabbed Stoick by the shoulder, eyes full of terror reflected by the fire.

"Stoick, there's problem! Come, please!" the grey-moustached man said.

His superior needed only one glance and feel the strength behind the grip of the male to make a decision.

"Wait 'ere for a mo' Hooch, I'll get changed and yer'll fill me in on th' problem." Stoick put his own hand on the villager's shoulder, gently. "Calm yerself, my friend. I'm 'ere. Got it?" he said with confidence as he did many times on the battlefield to fear-stricken soldiers. Touch was always the answer. People who lived in fear did not answer to voice, but to touch.

Hooch blinked and followed the gentle touch inside the house. The Chieftain closed the door, patted his shoulder and left hurriedly to get his winter clothes on himself, casting a quick glance to his son. Hiccup did not stir as the heavy boots racketed thorough the house.

They left quickly, closing doors quietly behind them

* * *

Stoick traversed through an unmoving crowd as a great ship through a calm sea of torches. Without thought, one of the front row spectators handed him a burning stick and pointed forward.

There was a hill nearby, barely touched by the feeble morning light. More torches moved on it as people searched for something, their shouts finding the Chieftain.

His eyes were steeled with determination as he walked towards the first moving flame. There to his relief, a crouched silhouette turned out to be Gobber.

"What we got 'ere," the leader called immediately.

The blacksmith wiped his hand absent-mindedly from the dirt against his trousers as he stood up and shook his friend's hand.

"Not sure," Gobber said honestly and yawned widely, his metal tooth glistening in all its glory. "Bu' wha' I know is that last night there 'as battle 'ere. A human an' a dragon."

Stoick eyes widened. "A battle? When? We would've heard it!" He raised his voice and realising that he stooped closer to his friend. "Show me, tell me exactly what yer thinkin'. Hide nothing," he commanded.

Gobber nodded. "Aye sir. Look," he knelt carefully due to his wooden peg, "see this hole is more of an impact site—"

The Chieftain's friend explained exactly what he thought caused it. Footsteps of a Nadder and two humans, one heavy judging from the imprints in the soil with very strange boot soles and another, lighter one, definitely belonging to a woman, judging from the positioning of footprints.

The story behind how this evidence came to be led to a lot of speculation. The most intriguing facts were that the marks belonging to the heavier of the unknown assailants did not make any sense unless he or she possessed an ability to leap from point to point at a distance of more than ten feet and was doing that whilst battling a Timberjack, judging from the evidence the dragon left. Again, it did not make sense, as the feet were clearly Nadder's. And then there were the rocks. Some rocks were sliced clean in half.

Nobody had awakened during the battle. Nobody heard or saw anything. Nobody remembered anything that night. Nobody awoke. Guards who were doing their rounds reported the sudden sensation of lost time as if something took away their senses. When they came to again the sun already showed itself on the horizon and they were chilled to the bone as if hours passed without them knowing. It turned out to be the truth.

It was magic. Evil, foreboding magic.

A curse.

A punishment.

Vikings must have done something to anger the Gods and they sent a warning by taking away their touch with time. It must have meant something especially during such troubled times.

The dragon-defenders immediately took the opportunity to shout that it was a sign from the Gods to add the beast's power to Berk's might and use them for conquest, or as fishing aides, or pest control, or a way for the village to gain fame.

Afterward, in the Council Hall, the dragon haters yelled that the Gods sent a signal to reject the creatures most foul and destructive. 'Kill them on sight' as the books said. They were old and good books. They surely was. Another opinion was to capture dragons and train with them. And then kill them. Or sell their body parts for money as they used to do, after killing them. Or before.

And then kill them.

Everyone had different views and outcomes in mind.

This led to the current evening in the Council Hall. People yelled at one another. Protective charms, troll-repelling potions, chants and other superstition-based knowledge and merchandise passed through the crowds.

In short, it was a mess, a very dangerous mess with people, each capable of killing one another in a blink of an eye. Alcohol consumed in monstrous quantities was supposed to quell the fear.

Berk's Vikings were afraid.

The dragon Queen. The Red Death. The beast that chilled even most brave's warrior's hearts. And now the morning that came late.

The forgotten night and the late morning which came afterwards.

Stoick did what he could, calming the mob more times than he remembered, trying to give voice to each and every one of the gathered and to form any sort of consensus between the divided groups.

Any consensus, any at all.

Even the Chieftain felt he had lost control over the situation. A pattern emerged, the opinion of a person, whatever it was, spread amongst his or her family or sometimes clan. Closely related family, often well-known friends, rarely strangers, they huddled together in their little islands seeking comfort.

Stoick, with dread in his heart, waited for the spark. It could be anything. A word. A punch. Long-brewing hatred. An impulse.

Accusations already flew from one party to another turning more ridiculous and darker in tone as time passed. About bringing dragons back, about a dead chicken, a daughter's inexplicable pregnancy. Threats varied as well. Punishment for the chicken was the most severe one so far.

It was then, when for the first time in the Council Hall somebody used the word "kill" when addressing another human. Furious voices filled the aged building as if a pack of angry dragons were at each other throats. The potential combatants were restrained by other participants, but more people rose to their feet, their eyes dilated in excitement. Stoick rushed towards them, hopping over tables. He was moments away from the drawing of first blood.

As on cue, the door to the Hall opened slowly with terrible creak, letting in a gust of icy wind and putting out the closest torches as heads turned to the newcomer. If anyone was not paying attention they certainly did as Gobber bellowed.

"Who goes there!?"

Everyone became silent as a dark shape stepped forward slowly with a distinct clutter against the floor, one wooden and one metallic. As the person came into the light of the fire everybody saw the long-green hooded cloak draped over a thin frame. A pair of green eyes seemed to glimmer from beneath it. They were the eyes of a predator. The newcomer wielded a long cane with metal plated endings used for support as he strongly limped forward. Only then could people see the reason as the shiny peg for a leg made the wooden click.

Hiccup removed the hood from his head and stood up proudly, making sure that he had the attention of the entire room.

As planned, Gobber yelled again, "Hiccup?!"

Whispers stormed, subtle, uncertain.

"Is it him?"

"He looks so thin."

"He can already walk? Unbelievable."

"The dragon raider..."

A smirk adorned the pale face of the teen as he looked directly at his father.

"I came here to earn my Viking name and join Council's deliberations as the son of the Chieftain!" he said at full volume.

The power of his voice was not impressive, a tad hoarse and it ended with an unhealthy hiss as if speaking caused the speaker some pain. Indeed it did although Hiccup did not notice pain or his body's discomfort. He held his composure. His greater enemy was no longer fear or lacking self-worth, but he had to use all his focus and concentration not to swim away with his thoughts to the grey beach. His hand involuntarily rose to his chest and massaged it. People mistook it as the traditional Berk military salute with a right fist pressed to one's heart.

Stoick for a moment appeared uncertain, wavering between the shock of seeing his son walking, still-ill and weak, and the obvious implications his appearance created. The obvious option won.

"I permit this!" The village leader answered pompously and opened his arms widely. "Odin blessed this night with my son able t' walk again!" He swept his barely-standing offspring into his arms and hugged him. It was badly acted on Stoick's part, although the Chieftain wanted to use the opportunity to gain more influence over his people, just as Hiccup planned. His father did not need to know that Hiccup waited right behind the door for some time and waited for the opportunity to enter or that Gobber was involved in it as well.

As Hiccup was guided to the high table he saw Snotlout. He was clad in a red cloak, generously embroidered with gold ornaments and a golden helmet, all previously worn by his father. His shocked expression did not remain for long as his face hardened in unusual concentration and then relaxed as if in comprehension of the situation.

Another person who sat quietly at the table reserved for leadership was the village Elder, clad in her clan's grey colour and clutching her cane. She barely opened an eye to see Hiccup before closing it and appearing to sleep.

He did not see Astrid observing him, first with astonishment and then with rising anger as to why he was not resting. Fishlegs was not present in the Hall, too busy going over his books to find anything about the possible return of dragons to be bothered with such mundane things as a looming chance of civil war on the island. Ruffnut was wandering through the village, drunk and Tuffnut was stirring a potter's wheel in his workshop creating beautiful clay-work, taking his mind off the fact that his best friend spent more time in meetings than with him.

A seat for the unexpected village hero was provided promptly and he sat to the right of his father. Gobber, next to him, saluted lazily with his mug-hand. Snotlout nodded weakly and rested his hand on his fist, appearing bored from many days of continuous and pointless discussion.

Stoick remained standing with a proud smile as he aligned his long-horned helmet and rested his hand on Hiccup's small shoulder.

"People of Berk, before we return t' our task, I hav' a very important thing t' say first." His deep voice boomed and his eyes swept the room, lingering on red-faced Vikings who were willing to kill each other just minutes ago. "It is my duty and pleasure to let my son into th' village Council by givin' 'im a Viking name!" His shout was met with feeble clapping which grew in power although never reached the thundering applause the Chieftain expected. That _should _not have any personal boundaries. After all, Hiccup saved all of them. Many of the families here still had fathers, mothers, sons and daughters thanks to him and a few other young members of the community. Were people really so ungrateful?

His forehead wrinkled with badly-concealed irritation. Stoick cleared his throat, stopping the awkward clapping as he cast the dark thought aside.

"I...I wanted t' give my son a name, properly," he looked back at his son. Pride and true love shone from his face. Hiccup did not look at him; instead he held his ceremonial robe close to the heart.

"He deserves it! With Odin my witness, he deserves it a hundred times over after th' heroic work he has done for us...for me. He showed not only astoundin' courage, bu' also wit an' cunning! He might not look as, well, a typical Viking should...an' caused a lot of trouble in th' past...blew up few buildings...destroyed a few ships and let's not forget those sheep we lost—"

"Get on with it!" Somebody shouted from the crowd.

"Yes, get on with it!" A few voices said at the same time.

Stoick harrumphed again.

"Right...not in a way I imagined I would do this, but...people of Berk!" The Chieftain yelled, puffing his chest and outstretching his arms, "I give ya, th' future Chieftain of th' Hairy Hooligans tribe an' heir of th' Haddock clan, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III…Hiccup th' Deep Minded!"

The rest of the commending speech was drowned out by Vikings expressing their approval, this time with more audible clapping. Hiccup registered his newly-given title, somewhere. He was distracted by observing only one person in the crown, a Viking man hunched over a drink. He had clearly visible dark skin beneath the bloodied eyes and messy dark hair. He looked directly back at Hiccup, not avoiding eye contact. The young heir did not understand why his mind decided to observe that particular individual although he had a growing idea of why.

"-with it, I ask now Snotlout Horrendous Haddock th' Unrelenting, do ya accept Hiccup, my son an' yer cousin as a future heir of Haddock clan?"

Everybody's breath stilled and turned their eyes to the one person to the question was addressed. Even the Elder opened her eyes and turned to gaze at him. Such a question implied many things. Normally it was a traditional way of confirming the leading family's power. However, Snotlout was representing his family and his injured and unconscious father. It was not a surprise that those who wanted dragons gone sympathised strongly with Snotlout as his father was known to hate dragons as much as Stoick. Nobody could tell what his views would be now as he lay in his house. If Snotlout said yes, all hope for those seeking retribution on dragons for their killed family members, for those seeing dragons as the source of chaos and destruction, all of their hopes and dreams would be crushed as a human skull beneath a Nightmare's paw.

Snotlout looked very uncomfortable and lost in the sudden spotlight. His face paled as he looked from Stoick's eyes that seemed to bore into his own. Hiccup who blinked slowly, appearing calm and collected. How he would not be calm as it was exactly what he had planned. The crowd waited in utter silence.

Snotlout took a deep breath, looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a brief moment, weighing in that instant the future of the village. Ultimately the decision would not be made by either Hiccup or Stoick, but by him.

He opened them and looked back at Hiccup. What seemed as an eternity, he turned to face the waiting villagers, stood up a bit shakily and took one deep breath.

"I accept Hiccup as the future heir of the Haddock Clan!"

It was pandemonium. People began yelling, standing up and pointing hands, slamming fists against tables, except for one man with very dark skin under his eyes. He moved through the crowd as a drakkar through the morning waves, something glistening in his lowered hand.

Hiccup tilted his head with interest, almost as a dragon, as the desperate man ploughed through the discordant mob. A deep breath filled the sick teen's chest as he considered his options in an instant. If he did not do something then that man would be executed, possibly after a very short proceeding. Was he concerned that somebody had every intention of killing him? No, not at all.

Hiccup concentrated and summoned every bit of the new knowledge he now possessed.

Before he had done anything though, a few people approached the high table Hiccup sat at, demanding to be heard. In a hasty process, one of them collided with the shoulder of the to-be murderer, jostling a dagger out of his hand. The man blinked, and as if out of a stupor, looked down at the ground and then up. He suddenly appeared utterly lost, realising only then that Hiccup was looking at him all that time.

A bony hand rose into the air. Stoick turned to his son, who signalled that he wished to speak and doubled his efforts to calm the shouting people with louder shouting of his own. It took a few minutes for the cacophony to diminish to single voices and then to a manageable volume. The Chieftain, who finally gave up on shouting, waited for a moment to ensure everybody understood that the proceedings would not continue unless rules were followed. His meaty hand corrected the position of his helmet before he gestured to his son.

"Now, I grant Hiccup th' Deep Minded t' right t' speak," he spoke, sat and turned the small hourglass in front of him.

"Thank you, Leader," the teen answered and lowered his fist. "I woke up missing my leg," he started, "at least part of it, but it was not all I was missing. I missed time which passed unnoticed, to me. I missed the events which occurred, the mourning and commemoration of the dead. The dragons, the very reason all of the living and injured made it back to Berk from the Dragon's Nest. Amongst them, there was one, very special dragon." A soft murmur passed the crowd. Hiccup raised his head. "It is true! The legendary Night Fury. The dragon who brought down the Red Death was not only my partner in flight, but somebody I considered...consider a friend," he quickly corrected himself.

Stoick slammed the table's top with his hand, a warning. Hiccup took a mug and drunk from it, realizing that his throat was already tired after a long period of disuse. He glanced at the hourglass.

"For those who were at the Dragon Island," Hiccup stated before putting the mug down, "you saw me. You saw the great few who chose to believe in me and my view on dragons. You've seen it then! How dragons can aid us. That forgetting about hatred and mistrust can create something beneficial, something meaningful. A new beginning and new possibilities! Why I've heard that some started using dragons to help catch fish, or carry heavy loads and it was just the beginning. Why, why are you so inclined to continue the cycle of death and destruction? Perhaps, I've not learned enough...You!" He pointed at the bloody-eyed man who curled in fear, "I wish you to tell me why you still hate dragons and want them dead."

The man's face struggled to speak as his face then twisted in pain.

"M-my lord. I had...had a wife," his cheeks wrinkled as a grimace of agony formed. "She died in a Zippleback's blast. An'-an' then my sons...burned by th' Red Death. I have nothing...nothing left." He stopped and looked down, unable to say anything more. A few hands were placed on his back for moral support by the people standing or sitting next to him.

"See?! An' yer dare t' ask 'hy we want 'em dead?!" Somebody shouted. Hiccup's fist rose into the air as the last word echoed briefly, a sign he still had right and time to speak. His green, bloodshot eyes narrowed above the dark skin beneath them. Then, without any emotion, those same eyes fell upon the crying figure.

"Deathpat the Burly," Hiccup said hoarsely to the man who wanted to kill him. "I sympathise with your loss and not only me. Many of us lost somebody either by a claw or fang, or an iron blade. If the dragons were to return at this moment, would you kill them all?" he asked Deathpat.

The wrinkled eyes widened and the man nodded shakily, feeling as if his plight was understood. "Yes, yes my lord. An' then burn th' bodies an' throw their bones into th' sea," he spoke hastily.

"For a spilled blood, another blood must be spilled," Hiccup recited, leaning his face against his fist. As a bored monarch, he continued, "and you shall find your enemy and slay him as well as his family and his clan. And if anyone would come in way of your vengeance you shall slay them as well," he quoted their teachings with disinterest.

Theirs. Not his. Not anymore.

He uttered his next word carefully, his penetrating gaze still fixed on Deathpat.

"Do you believe in those ways and what they entitle?" Hiccup asked.

A creased half-smile bloomed on the man's face.

"Yes! Yes! Every word! For what they did t' us, the dragons must b' hunted an' killed, each an' every one of them! Those beasts attacked us first. It is our, _my_ right t' slay them, as the songs tell us!" He exclaimed and then hunched once more, eyes down.

Hiccup let the sand continue its slow trickle, seemingly unconcerned with the time remaining. He continued in his same slow drawl.

"However then...there are songs which tells us to cast the shield and sword away after all the fight is done and the blood soaked into the ground. For no greatest honour is there than to win the war and let your blade rest for surely life gives and death takes," he mused briefly. "Those words must be...most deliberated and most useful, especially now. Why not let them guide us? Isn't this what scriptures say as well?" Hiccup asked somewhat rhetorically as Deathpat's grease-haired head rose to utter something but was silenced immediately as the young man signalled with his fist he was not finished.

"I woke up missing time, taken away from me after I helped free this island from the threat of dragon attack and yet...yet some of you disregard this chance given to you. Why such rush, my dear subjects?" his tone changed its tempo, becoming more alive and dangerous. "Death will come to claim us all sooner or later! Why rush towards it? I expected...I expected nothing less of you," he took the image of the crowd with his eyes before returning to Deathpat. His legs seemed attached to the ground as he was unable to look away from the green, predatory orbs of the orator.

"You want death? There's plenty around us. Famines during harsh winters, fires, wars against humans, wars against dragons, disease, death at giving birth...death in revenge." He sighed as if disappointed.

"My mother was killed in revenge, in revenge for destroying all of the villages belonging to the _Vǫlsungr_clan. I remember it now and how it happened."

No more sand was present in the top of the hourglass yet no one stopped the young man from speaking. Every adult knew what Hiccup suffered from, his Memory Blessing. If it was cast away, then this must have been the Gods intervention.

The village Elder opened her ancient eyes fully to look curiously at the boy.

Hiccup stood up to his foot and a crane. He shook, but not from fatigue. His hand travelled to his sternum and pressed hard as an imaginary pain almost made him black out.

"Death...so...much...death...for mere revenge. There's a certain point after it is fulfilled, with nothing more to kill, with nothing more to destroy...," he shuddered and moaned, bending over a table. Two hands helped support him, his father and Gobber. Gasping, he nodded and straightened himself up.

"Nothing more...revenge, it accomplishes nothing. It creates nothing. I will NOT let you destroy this opportunity with your selfish hatred!" He shouted, eyes widened in exaltation, "I will NOT run away from my responsibilities as an heir. By my right of birth I tell you now!" His hand rose up, curled into a fist.

"There will be no. More. **_DEATH_**."

Something passed through the room, barely moving the flames of the torches. It was something chilly, icy as the most northern of the winds penetrated everyone, as an unforgiving ocean wave. Nobody moved and nobody dared to breathe. It was as if the very meaning behind the last word materialised into something tangible and dangerous.

Hiccup breathed heavily with very clear wheezing with each passing exhalation, sweat rising on his forehead and as the first drop of it fell onto the table he began to cough up blood.

It pulled the transfixed crowd back to reality. Hiccup took a step backwards and sat on a table. He missed and toppled over the chair's armrest onto the floor. A trail of blood fell out of his mouth as the room darkened and shadowy silhouettes hunched over him. He saw a claw pointed at his chest and ready to strike. It crushed his ribs, destroyed his heart and ended his life only for him to see again the claw and dying , again and again.

Hiccup twitched on the floor, bloody foam coming of his mouth as people rushed to him.

* * *

Hiccup opened his eyes slowly to a penetrating, distant low hum, soft light and white walls. He was prevented from drifting back to his dream filled with the sound of cracked bones and an endless abyss by a pain emanating from his back. It was if a small portion of his skin was on fire and cut open at the same time.

His eyelids lowered sluggishly as he drew in a deeper breath.

"Drink," a nearby voice ordered and he was settled into semi-sitting position. When he did not react immediately, fingers pressed his jaws open and poured a putrid-tasting liquid down his throat. As it went down, a strange sense of warmth spilled over his body and he could again think clearly, even if only for a moment. It was long enough to see a red, draconic eye looking down at him from a white, long muzzle, along with a bald child riding across its neck.

"Are you with me or do you want me to slap you?" The dragon's mouth moved and the supporting hand which turned out to be a clawed, hand-like object stopped supporting him and he dropped back to the bed. The pain from his back let him know the bed was nothing more than a metal board concealed beneath thin white material.

Hiccup collected himself after a brief groan and shuffled weakly to sit against the head board.

"Now I know that changing eye colour is not the only thing you can do," he said, taking a deep breath. He repeated the action, this time filling his chest to its limits.

"Really? What gave it away?" Seven deadpanned although Hiccup did not appear to hear the snarky response.

"What did you do?" He asked, more aggressively than he wanted.

The pristine dragonoid put down the glass on an adjacent metallic frame with an audible click.

"Go on, sssay it," her voice hissed with an animalistic twang as her eyes glared at Hiccup.

"I can breathe," the teen blurted. "It does not hurt."

"Weird, isn't it?" Seven asked, "Being able to do something as difficult as breathing without pain. Tell me Hiccup, when was the last time you did anything without pain accompanying it?"

Hiccup could not ignore her as she swiftly moved forward, almost touching his face with her muzzle. The child on her neck gently swayed to the motion, unperturbed.

"A perfectly reasonable question for you," Seven stated at his lack of an immediate answer. "Therefore I repeat my query. Where was the last time you did something, anything without pain?"

Hiccup thought for a long moment.

"I don't remember," he answered.

The dragonoid snorted as she looked intently into the boy's dull eyes.

"And why should you? First were the burns and the fire. Not the greatest first memories if you ask me. And this mixture of fat and herbs you used to rub into the burned skin every night. What you did not know back then was that you yourself messed up your back. You want to know the additional effects it had on your body?" She asked and continued before Hiccup had a chance to say anything. Not as if he wanted to.

"Of course you do. Don't worry I will present the dumb version, just for you. You happened to destroy one of the vascular vessels nourishing a muscle by your shoulder blade. To your luck the muscle is quite big and only part of it...died. What happens to dead meat I am sure you are aware of. A great feasting ground for all kinds of things that want to kill you. Your body fought back for almost ten years spending most of its energy and resources to do it. That's why you are quite...short for a boy your age. And so thin. It does not explain stupidity though. However, it tells me why you probably were getting sick easily. Oh and the infection spread to the lung's outer layer as well. That caused lower stamina, shortness of breath and a collection of other lovely symptoms which you do not care about. Because you are crazy, Hiccup. Oh and you are welcome, by the way," she exhaled into his face.

Hiccup blinked slowly, his hand moving to rest on his chest, a movement which did not escape Seven's attention.

"I am?" He asked, more to himself than anyone else.

The white creature nodded sagely.

"Yes, very. You want to know why? Of course you do. You are crazy because you like trying to kill yourself. Your self-preservation instincts are nonexistent. Why did you try to kill yourself in the Mead Hall?" She asked in a dead-serious tone.

Hiccup's hand let go of his white tunic that he wore, looking surprised for a brief moment.

"Kill myself. I don't know what you are talking about," he said plainly.

"You know what you did. You know what happened afterwards. Your actions earned you a minor cerebral haemorrhage. You want to know what that is? Of course you do. It is when a blood vessel ruptures and blood flows everywhere. In this instance it goes into your brain. Lucky for you, _again_, I was able to prevent your condition from deteriorating. Now," she continued in business-like tone. "I repaired your back as well, most of it anyway. I severely lack equipment, and medication. Speaking of which, time for another tasteful concoction."

Her paw grabbed another glass. There were five others waiting near it in a neatly prepared line.

"Here you go. Drink," Seven spoke, giving the boy the glass. Hiccup noticed the glass after almost being hit by it in the forehead and drank it automatically.

"That was an anticonvulsant...of course you wanted to know that," the old dragonoid said as the older of her two patients finished the last of the liquid.

"I did not try to kill myself," Hiccup said calmly, looking aside and playing with the glass absent-mindedly. "I know you are merely sarcastic and expressing your anger, but I achieved what I wanted. Additionally, I knew that Balerdargur was most probably watching me and would notify you if something...unexpected happened. So far you seem very intent on keeping me alive, being...kind. The risk I took was...acceptable," he stared at the wall.

Seven kept her gaze on the boy and without a word, she sat, her tail waving lazily in the air. Hiccup took one glance. From all the memories he had of Toothless he could easily determine a dragon's body language. The waving of the tail might have appeared calm, but it meant 'agitation' or 'excitement', a sign that a dragon was disturbed. As the dragonoid caught Hiccup looking her way, the tail stopped all movement and she changed her position to put a little more weight on her right front paw, head low and tail stiff by the ground.

Hiccup immediately tensed. It was a signal of impending aggression. Seven smirked, changing back to more relaxed position.

"Little advice before we move on to more serious matters. With all the knowledge you have acquired concerning dragons you are probably the best dragon expert in the world. Use it. Now then," as promised her muzzle took on a more "serious", very human, appearance. Dragons naturally did not have any facial expressions. They had to be learned. The only dragons Hiccup remembered from his "memories" to show such expressions were the Red Death, Toothless- learned first from the Red Death and his sister...that meant that his sister—

"Can you tell me please, what transpired last night?" A sharply accented sentence ripped Hiccup away from his thought process.

He pondered quickly about sharing this information with his current protector. He did not want to tell her anything even though realistically he had no reason to refuse. So far, Seven proved to be extremely supportive and knowledgeable, helping far beyond from what he would expect from a stranger. That meant some sort of personal gain. She captured Toothless, rightfully so, but what if...what if she triggered the change, or something different altogether happened.

Hiccup calmed himself quickly. Braedan was correct with what he told him previously. Keepers will use you as a "pawn". The young dragon trainer accepted this fact and as long as Seven continued to aid his case, he had no any evidence to state otherwise, he would oblige.

He decided that. So why was something inside telling him to not trust the strange being with even stranger red eyes?

"Of course," he said without any emotion.

He kept his explanation simple; simple, short and straight to the point. What he did not remember or memories which were blurred he admitted to this and moved on. Seven asked a similarly short and simple question to which he answered if he could. All throughout the interrogation he pressed the glass close to his chest. It made the pain go away, even if only for a bit. He spoke of both his mother and Toothless, without any visible emotion.

His last words sounded in the room before Hiccup was handed a new glass, the old one taken away. He drank without interruption. The bald child woke up and wiped her eyes, sitting upright. Hiccup noticed the more feminine lines to the child's face, a girl. He did not ask anything because he knew it was not his place to ask.

Seven lowered her graceful neck to the ground and the passenger dismounted quickly, all the time looking at Hiccup.

The pristine dragonoid opened her mouth and the boy heard only a few hushed sounds as dry sighs even though much more was communicated outside his ability to hear. In multiple electric arcs a purple dragoness appeared right beside Hiccup's bed. Seven nuzzled the girl and whispered something into her ear. Without looking back, the youngling moved to Balerdargur and they left together, the wall-gate closing behind them.

"Such a disturbed mind that one has," Seven spoke, looking at where the girl disappeared. "I can only hope I will be able to bring a little peace to her life."

Hiccup did not comment as he knew it was not his place to speak. Not yet.

The crimson eyes regarded him once more.

"I cannot attest to how true the memory concerning your mother is. Some parts were clearly filled with more contemporary images to fill the gaps. This is the best version you will get, ever," she said with brutal honesty. "Concerning Toothless...the...Night Fury. The dragon, if he can be called as one now. He has less in common now with a dragon than me and that's saying something. Not only has his eyes changed colour, but the inside of his body as well. I am not sure what he is now although the initial check-up with him showed that his memory concerning you was a bit shattered. It should return quickly, don't worry. Your...friend is now with Aeon on the nearby island together with the rest of the dragons from the, how did you originally call it, the Dragon's Nest." Her head lowered. "Aren't you...happy?" Seven asked.

Hiccup massaged one spot on his upper torso, lost in thought. Was he happy to see Toothless again, to see him and look back into those toxic-green, _no_, light-grey eyes? It seemed so easy right after everything happened, but as time passed. Nothing was the same, nothing felt the same.

"I don't know. I think deep inside I am, but how can I tell for sure if I do not feel anything at all most of the time?" Hiccup answered, looking at his right hand. "I do not feel the...me who is lying here is real. I do not _feel_ alive here. I do not feel that I am in my body," he said as he curled his fingers and relaxed them. "It is as if I am an outsider in control of the flesh, separated from it, from everything. Maybe I am still trapped by the Red Death in a dream? Maybe I died and those are the images I see before I...disappear. Is it real?" His eyes rose to Seven, two emerald pools of melancholy. "Is this _real_?" He asked, his eyes widening and shining with life for a moment.

The dragonoid tilted her head. "I should not be surprised by now with the type of questions you ask. Let me ask you this. Is anything real?"

Hiccup looked at his hand again and flexed it.

"I don't know," he answered after a lengthy pause.

"You are a smart person. You had time to consider this for some time. You are versed in some schools of philosophy, more primitive ones, but at least some. Your memory works better than ever thanks to the meditation sessions Toothless taught you. Alas, the only honest answer I can give you is the one you said yourself: I don't know," Seven said gently.

Hiccup lowered his head, his fingers ready to grab his tunic.

"However," she said sharply, stopping the boy. "All those schools rely on one thing. It is the same as most human ways of thinking really. It goes as follows. We cannot experience reality outside our own perceptions. We cannot experience it outside our own mind. Therefore we can never prove reality exists. You see a weakness of this statement? She asked, probing his intelligence further.

The skin around Hiccup's eyes wrinkled as he thought.

"Fallacy? I...I don't see any mistake in such reasoning. Our mind is the only thing we have to observe anything. Touch, smell, vision, sound...everything ends up in here," he said as he pointed to his head.

Seven's smile widened.

"Oh, but you did not experience life through your mind only. You lived another's life! You experienced reality from another perspective. You cannot get any closer to assurance that what you experience is real than that," she stated, smiling.

Hiccup rebutted immediately.

"Unless even that is something my mind conjured as well."

Seven nodded.

"Indeed. The argument is impossible to refute completely. It is the best argument I can present to you. Perhaps, if Toothless would be here you could ground your own ego and regain a sense of reality...to some degree."

Hiccup looked aside as she mentioned his friend and his hand immediately smoothed the centre of his chest.

"It would be best...if I would not see him now," he said quietly.

"Hiccup," Seven begun gently.

"I _know_," Hiccup stopped her. "I know now what it means to be a partner to a dragon. I know...," he halted.

"Please, say it," the dragonoid urged.

The sickly thin teen breathed in deeply.

"He cannot exist without me. He does not even want to. Freedom...there is no such thing for dragons. Individuality is not desired, emotions are not understood. There is an instinct of bonding, a desire to be close, to be touched, a pleasure of affection. But, there is no friendship...," he spoke as if the words alone made it difficult to utter them.

"There is no love," he ended. Saying it made it fully real. Such was the power of words.

"You will have to reconcile, if not for your sake then do it for him. You are his existence whether you want it or not, you are his soul," Seven stated grimly, though a smile quickly appeared on her muzzle. "Poetic metaphors aside, don't worry about it so much. You will go to bed, fall asleep and tomorrow, or today is going to be—"

"All right?" Hiccup cynically asked.

"Better. Hiccup. Better," Seven pointed.

The boy curled his broken body, grabbing sheet-covered knees.

"My back fixed…years of illness and problems. Fixed...just like this," the teen spoke, detached.

"Just like this," Seven nodded in agreement. "Yet, instead of celebrating you seem disappointed."

Hiccup breathed in fully, as he was not able to do so for as long as he could remember.

"It is truly as a dream. If you have such power, are you truly not a god yourself?" He asked the mysterious creature.

To his surprise, Seven laughed. It was a cheerful expression, sounding exactly as a human would, unrestrained. It echoed in the artificial room in sharply ending cascades.

"G-god?" She wheezed between deep breaths. "Me?" She laughed again, "You-you asked me this before when I took—,"she chuckled, quite melodiously Hiccup noticed. "I took the form of a woman typical of your tribe. You mistook me for F- pffffffff." She struggled to hold back her laughter. "Freyja and it ended in quite an interesting way I must admit," she smiled, almost slyly.

"In a way I feel flattered that you would ask me such a question again. What is funny is that I should ask you the same question. If a god is something that created you, are you one of the gods Hiccup?" She asked with a grin as she waved her forepaw dismissively. "That's a ridiculous question. What I have is knowledge. That would mean that knowledge can make you equal or even able to surpass gods. However, knowledge can be gained by anyone. Maybe anyone can become a god? Hmm who knows?" She mused, her body language still playful. Hiccup had no idea how to answer although he thought carefully on the creature's words. Seven never said anything without a reason.

"Here, the last glass. I promise," the currently cheerful creature chimed in, handing him the translucent liquid it contained.

Hiccup drank, not knowing what to say.

"I am leaving," Seven said amidst the boy's soft gulps. He stopped drinking immediately.

He felt a panic, a rising turbulence in his numbed mind, as sharp and tangible as a rusty nail scraping inside his skull. Leaving? Why? His important source of new information? The completely new perspective? All the knowledge he could attain, all the mysteries he could unravel. The dread felt real, very real.

Going back to his old life seemed dull in comparison.

For the slightest of moments he was ready to ask her, plead and beg to be taken with her whenever and wherever she was going. Glimpsing such a strange, exotic and exhilarating world only to now have it taken away? It seemed unfair.

Hiccup wanted to ask but of course, he did not.

He had his role to play and it was to help Berk move from the crisis and help create the new future for them,_ his_ people.

It was tempting to simply run away from responsibilities. There was so much to be seen, so much to be learned. He wanted to saddle up and leave, just as he wanted to do before his fight with the Monstrous Nightmare.

He would have done that back then, but now...

"All right," he said without as much as a nod.

"Don't worry, I won't leave you alone," Seven said as if reading his thoughts. "Braedan has some business to wrap up and wants to take in more of, how did he say it? Oh, yes, 'rustic charm' of the village and Aeon is basically useless to me now and he needs his rest, quite badly."

"Before you leave," Hiccup started hurriedly, wanting to use all the time remaining as best as possible. "Why are you on the Elder's clan coat of arms? What are the items you are using from? You...you," he took a deeper breath, suddenly feeling light-headed. "You...ah...the last glass," he uttered with difficulty.

"The last glass," the creature agreed, her image swimming before Hiccup's eyes.

"Don't go...I…" the human's head slumped down as he fought a fruitless battle to keep his eyes open. They closed and despite darkness, he heard a clear voice in his head.

**_If you care about the truth, find me. If you want to truly change the world for your people for the better, find me_**. The message ringed heavily in the Hiccup's mind, chiselling itself into his memory. The last bit made his heart skip a beat.

**_If you will ever need your leg back? Find me._**

Hiccup fell asleep.

* * *

The wall-gate opened with a mechanical motion and a very audible grinding of metal against metal.

Two of the prisoners noticed immediately. One tensed while the other scooted closer to the first's chest to receive relaxing scratches on the neck.

The obviously unnatural creature stepped inside. As during their first meeting the pearly, talking dragon sat before the invisible force field holding the captives. What made the scene different was the colourful glow encompassing the beastly newcomer's muzzle. On her right forearm a series of prismatic images switched places rapidly above the device latched onto the limb. The claws swirled and tumbled in rapid, hazy motions and after a brief moment they stopped along with the holographic projection. Amyna held her dragon tighter.

"Tilbúinn!" Seven exclaimed triumphantly in a language the foreign soldier did not recognise. The creature used her talons with human dexterity and with a click unlocked the palm-sized triangular device from what appeared to be a black, mechanical gauntlet. Trying not to pay much thought to it, Amyna's blue eyes looked up. A large, welcoming smile greeted her. Dragons did not smile, ever.

"I apologise, I meant ready," the abomination against everything the olive-skinned woman knew corrected herself in Imperial Standard. The softly-outlined snout tilted. "How do you find your food and conditions? Do you have any complaints about the treatment?" She asked.

As during the previous encounter, Amyna kept quiet. Her eyes darted along Seven's body with frightening speed, scanning for any sign of opening or possibility of escape.

The Keeper placed the small device exactly between herself and the internee.

"Pleasantries aside now, let us speak of your terms of release," Seven said seriously to an utter lack of belief on Amyna's part. She was certain it was a part of an elaborate psychological game.

"This is only one condition. You shall listen to what I have to say and listen very carefully."

The woman listened very carefully. She always did. It helped her to stay alive longer.

"Amyna Estatira Negan." That certainly caught the prisoner's attention. Almost nobody knew her full name. Only a small handful of people were aware she even had a second name let alone that she had a past. Yet the monologue continued. "Age thirty two. Currently a part of the Naval branch of the Third Human Extraction Division, assigned Number One and acting Executive Officer for offshore missions. Present military rank: Second Lieutenant. Years in active service: fourteen. That is what a personal file would state, wouldn't it?" Seven asked rhetorically as Amyna eyes were wide with shock.

"However, there is another file," the dragonoid continued emotionlessly. "One that should not be seen as it details the training you took during years 268 Post Unification to 270 P. U. If I were to take the same file I would see one labelled as 'Advanced Officer Training'. However we both know that during that time you were taught Tagma military applications. Still want to remain silent?" Seven asked with a gentle tilt of her head.

Amyna was afraid that if she embraced her dragon any tighter she might break his ribs.

"How...," her voice croaked after lack of use as well as dehydration, "did you acquire this information?"

Seven smiled, "I knew that would gain your attention. Requests for any information during captivity might lead to capture and elimination of a possible unknown spying group. Very well, since you asked so nicely I will tell you how I know so much about you," she said and looked to her side.

The air began waving feebly as an item materialised. A monotone orange gleamed between dark, coaly spots and smears, the sharp line of a handle passed smoothly into a straight blade. Runes took the spot amidst what was shaped as a sword without a cross-guard, perfectly formed and clearly readable to those who understood them.

_Tagma-reactive close distance thermal weapon system, S.I.M.P.G. 1200 mk-3 005_

Seven's crimson eye lingered on the last number. Five. It seems Five must have been very busy developing a new generation of killing tools.

Materialisation complete, the weapon rested in suspension above the ground. Demonstration done, the orange blade began disappearing as Seven spoke. Amyna instantly knew to whom the destructive item belonged to.

"That is quite a formidable weapon. Kyndal never had a chance to use it though. He was a powerful _Nytareggr_ or, as you like to call each other, a User. Unfortunately he was part of the group which was assigned to kill me. Fortunately for him, he succeeded. After that...I killed them all."

Her forepaw moved to the wall and tapped a panel. Right in time as the prisoner lunged at her with a ferocious scream. Seven moved backwards, dodging a powerful kick that whizzed by her muzzle. The Keeper took a step backward and watched indifferently as her prisoner suddenly yelped in pain and fell to the floor. Wiggling, she tried to reach her back furiously. Several red spots, outlining the spine, blossomed across her previously immaculate, white gown.

"I told you that removing Tagma-inhibitors is dangerous. Aeon may have knowledge how to do it although he is not the gentlest nor best qualified to do so. Now you have to suffer the consequences. I told you, but you did not listen... You never listen," Seven told the suffering woman coldly.

"This is the Volumetric Projection Module," her claw pointed at the named item. "It belonged to Kyndal. After killing him and his group, I searched their bodies. This device contains his officer's journal along with a personal journal. He had a habit of collecting any information concerning you. Dates, assignments, planned journey routes, commanding officers, interrelated documentation. Along with it, he did not hesitate to insert classified information. That's how I knew where to find you, travelling as a captain of a typical cargo vessel outside the borders of the Empire. A very dangerous task considering that transport of humans against their will is punished on most of the water territories you were sailing on. I then broke the encryption of your orders and wrote one of my own. Take it, human," Seven ordered. Amyna did not react other than roll over and clutch her stomach. Her back convulsed as if in pain.

Melleth took the moment to hop towards his master, looking fearfully at the white dragonoid and giving a hiss without any power behind it. Doing the only thing he knew how to do when his master was in pain, he nuzzled her face and mewled. His back rose as the triangular device slid to Amyna stopped near her head.

"If it is any consolation, you never had any chance of winning. Kyndal described your abilities clearly as well as all training taken. I knew what tactic you would use as well as the way you would manifest your Dáð." As a response, a metallic pole was revealed before her in a shimmer of blurred air. She looked at the blunt tip. "Partial command over magnetism. Remarkable in its own account although your method of attacking me demanded far too much focus and left you extremely vulnerable. It also seems...unlikely your instructors would not tell you to mask your appearance better. White hair...blue irises and blotches on the skin with lighter colour. This is an obvious loss of pigmentation due to usage of electricity. Hide your symptoms better. There are people who would discern what causes such an appearance and terminate your life immediately. You lack experience in battling other _Nytareggar _and I do not want your life to end soon.I commend your bravery and loyalty to the cause though. You have decent psyche integrity considering your past."

Amyna's hand felt as if touched by a smouldering iron. She shuddered and then stilled as her whole body became rigid as a stone. Seven was in the middle of articulating the next words which would surely destroy the remaining pitiful amount of her pride and psychological well-being. As if realising what she was about to do, the red irises dilated and her jaw relaxed. She lowered her head as she exhaled quietly.

Seven levitated the pole onto the ground, next to the woman's hand. The tawny fingers took hold of it in a hard grip.

"Thank you for the projectile. It has proven most useful. May you be shielded from harm," Seven bowed her muzzle and turned her back to the armed prisoner who managed to stand immediately after her form was exposed.

Seven did not take the first step instantly. The moment lingered as if she waited for something. Amyna waited as well, sweaty from her effort to stand, her weapon-wielding hand shaking. Seven waited for something. It never came.

Her paw took a step and the wall-gate opened to a pair of luminous yellow-green eyes and shining fangs in a dimmed corridor.

Seven spoke in series of clicks and rhythmic sounds inaudible and incomprehensible to the human ear.

"Take her to her clothing and equipment. Then take her back to her ship along with her dragon. Be...gentle," she sung.

The Nadder studied his partner soundlessly with a bored stare and then looked at the heavy-breathing woman with a shining piece of metal in her hand. He moved forward without as much as confirmation. A voice stopped him half-way through inside the room.

"How is the specimen," the Keeper asked.

Aeon cracked his neck, never letting his eyes stray from the metal pole even for a second.

"Impatient. One Without Fangs wants to be reunited with his Scalgertar," he replied curtly.

"His mental status?" Seven queried impassively.

"He is unconcerned about his change or the possible repercussion. He does not remember anything from the moment of the scan. He was mainly concerned in the welfare of his Scalgertar. He became agitated as I mentioned that something controlled the Scalgertar against his will. He might desire to go, but he will not disobey me," the blue-scaled dragon finished.

The Keeper moved forward, seemingly accepting the report.

"Keep the specimen on the island with the other dragons for a bit longer. I will let you know when Hiccup will be most vulnerable to accept the specimen back. Everything must be done in the proper sequence."

At that, the dragonoid was in the corridor and the gate shut itself, separating her from any observers. Left in the barely lit corridor filled with the low hum of machinery, she raised her paw, shaped as a hand, high into the air.

In a motion impossible to perform by any dragon, she slapped herself hard across the muzzle. The claws dug into the skin as tiny red droplets splattered against the opposing wall in dozens of red dots. The reddening of the skin and the wounds disappeared instantly, leaving nothing behind. Not even pain.

As if nothing happened, Seven walked ahead.

* * *

It was harder to smell when it was cold. It was a common fact, well known to both humans and especially dragons, those that developed basic reasoning that is.

It was cold enough for snow to not melt. It fell from the sky in great quantities from the dark sky and continued their thorough work in covering everything in a uniform layer of pearly fluff.

The island was quiet, a quaint and isolated piece of ground, not far away from Berk. Currently it temporary housed several hundred dragons.

And one non-dragon.

At the farthest point of the isle on a sharp-ending hill, snow covered a lump of standing flesh. A set of grey eyes looked longingly at a point in the darkness, unmoving.

It was harder to smell when it was cold, although Toothless caught the scent of a new dragon behind him. He did not hear anything though until the newcomer cracked his neck.

The Fury-shaped creature immediately shook himself violently, freeing himself from the blanket of ice crystals.

Toothless swirled his right front paw three times in a hasty greeting and took a half-step forward, raising his ashen pupils to the Nadder's head, being inquisitive.

Aeon had his head raised as far as possible, exhaling a hot mist and playing with powdery flakes as they rose on a warm stream of air. He took a half-step step as well, signalling that he would address Toothless. His lack of eye contact meant that he did not want to be disturbed. He played with the snowfall, sometimes chasing after one particular pearly particle, propelling it persistently and prancing with prodigious perfection, not permitting the pale point to plummet to its peril and perish.

Aeon's eyes tracked the favoured snowflake as it disappeared between countless others, the unstopping pristine torrent continued to fall, twirling at the mercy of the wind.

"Some humans believe that the great white is frozen tears of the sky as it sheds them in longing after earth. The humans would dance in the great white," he repeated the movement he did; swirling with his wings outstretched like human hands reaching towards the heavens. "They would breathe at the tears, trying to send them back to make the sky happy and make the cold and great white end sooner." He stopped, letting the snow fall on his muzzle. "The great white would always fall sooner or later despite their best attempts. It taught them the inevitability of nature. Yet, they did not stop. They continued dancing and trying their best for the sky. Humans always look up with fear and admiration. Up, never down."

His wings fell to his sides and he looked back at Toothless. "That is the time that I saw into the core of mankind's madness. To repeat an action knowing it would end with the same effect, over and over again, hoping for a different outcome each time. Even when they were bound to fail, they continued their futile attempts. Humanity is obsessed with repetition, obsessed with patterns. I did not see it at that time. Those are Seven's words. I did not see the madness because it was hidden beneath our own madness. As the great white, we are bound to reach out to humans, certain humans in certain times. We might be told of the dangers in Bonding with a human, but we always meet the same end," he looked at the snow falling gently.

"The great white always falls to the ground." He approached Toothless, caressing his neck with the tip of his snout, breathing in his smell. "Your scent is different," he spoke before turning to the edge of the cliff towards the whitened meadow.

"Come. Our _Kathet_ awaits."

Toothless looked up into the leaden sky, trying to see what the First-Speaker saw in the great white. He did not know what words such as "tears" and "dance" meant and he was thus lost with the elusive metaphors. The mind of his leader was a mystery. He only understood the tone, the sombre tempo and a soft heartbeat. It was sorrowful in nature. Toothless could understand emotions most of the time although he could not relate to them.

Only a quickly disappearing disturbance in the flow of snow was left as the Nadder jumped off the cliff towards the inland. Toothless chased after. At the end of the short distance, he leaped off the crevice in a full gallop with his wings folded and dived downward. The sensation of gravity took hold of his body, the wind streaming against his eyes and aerodynamic form. He waited until the last moment as he unfolded his wings near the ground, touching the snow with the edge of his tailfin and flew forward.

He could fly on his own again. He was healed, unhurt. He would be able to serve his _Scalgertar_ better.

He did a lazy aileron roll and lowered his altitude as the lowland opened before him. Dragons of various shapes and colours lazed in groups, resting. Above them, the nocturnal species soared, returning from or going to hunt. It was very quiet despite the large number of these creatures in one place.

Toothless landed next to Aeon, in the middle of the dragon-occupied area, folding his wings in two attempts.

A set of wings next to him shot outward in a display and the First-Speaker let out a short, piercing cry to the sky in a sign that he had returned. Immediately, the whole meadow was lit with shining eyes as dragons took interest. The blue-scaled protector turned his body slowly to let every dragon see him clearly. Announcing his arrival was a common practice. It brought a sense of calm as the strong came to protect the weak.

The Nadder finally dropped his wings and turned his attention back to Toothless. Some dragons approached them, sniffing the air to catch the scent of the First-Speaker, never intruding too closely as if an invisible barrier prevented their approach. Aeon's body language made it clear that he did not make himself available and it was not a position of those submissive to breach such an unspoken rule.

"I need to rest now," the Nadder spoke with a lazy blink. "You will spend the rest of the time before meeting your Scalgertar meditating and learning your new body. Your flight technique is not as good as it used to be and you have problem folding your wings. After my rest you will begin training with me."

Toothless' heartbeat quickened at the prospect of finally being trained in proper techniques, yet it did not quell the longing he had to meet his human. Looking aside, he saw scaled forms, sleeping soundly again. Amidst the sea of bodies, only one neck was outstretched looking at the night sky, in the direction of the human settlement. A large, red female _Hiteshi Eska_, the same one that Toothless fought in the chain cage. He could not catch her scent amongst everybody else's or hear her heartbeat to tell the reason behind such unusual behaviour. Also, he did not care.

Aeon stood on one leg with his head hidden beneath his wing. Toothless sat right next to him and closed his eyes. He might have not felt the Will of his Guide yet, although if this is what it felt to be a part of a _Kather _then it was satisfying to a very small,old part of him.

As ordered he focused in on himself and soon time stopped mattering altogether.

* * *

There came another day. It came as always, with pain.

Hiccup snapped to attention, dry-throated, his night clothes feeling heavy because of shock and sweat. He did not scream, nor did he moan as he pressed his hand to his chest. He heaved as he waited for the nightmare to leave his body.

Nightmares. The worst he had ever experienced. Bad dreams were supposed to be dreams, a distorted figment of a troubled mind. They were never supposed to be part of reality. What tormented Hiccup was reality, the horrific past which did not belong to him. It made it impossible to throw it away, to shrug the sensation off and move on to take the first step towards a new day.

Hiccup did not want to take any steps. He did not want anything, merely to lie down and let his own mind shred the last bits of sanity he had left.

Another day, another lie. It was not better. He felt worse than ever.

And he did not care in the slightest about it.

A pair of coarse-skinned hands touched his sweat-covered forehead and then delicately and with practiced firmness lifted him upward. Something moved below his nose and a horribly acute stench drilled itself into his brain. Immediately, he was moved back from a grey-sanded beach back to his house where an old-looking man was by his side. Seizing the opportunity, he gasped to feel fresh air again take hold of his head. The old man looked into his eyes before grabbing his wrist to check his pulse.

There was also his father, leaning in as far as his enormous body allowed, looking incredibly worried, even scared. Braedan appeared in the background by the table with a half-finished breakfast, looking at the boy with sharp eyes.

"Son…son…can you hear me?" Stoick asked, kneeling by the bed.

Hiccup took in a couple of deep breaths.

"I'm all right," he spoke calmly as a droplet of sweat dropped onto blankets from his chin.

Stoick appeared confused at the answer and did not know what to say for a moment. It was unusual for him. Some part of Hiccup must have noticed his father's distress as he put on an obviously insincere smile.

"Right," the Chieftain said curtly. "Right…son, this 'ere's Mister Ra..Radchik, Braedan's healer," he spoke, pointing with his hand to the older male who counted quietly while still holding the tired teen's wrist.

"I'm hungry. Can we eat please?" Hiccup said cheerfully before his father was able to say anything else.

"Of course," his father replied, eyeing him for a second before standing up and turning to a table.

Throughout the whole breakfast he talked with Hiccup, mainly about what transpired last evening. Hiccup insisted on his good health and soon, Stoick dropped the subject and discussed other mundane topics such as politics whilst his offspring drunk a lot of herbal brew occasionally casting him a worried glance.

Whatever Hiccup did last night worked. The situation was far from over but it gave strong leverage to end the conflict. It opened negotiations with some of the opposing clans. Not much else was said. Braedan was mostly silent beside an occasional neutral remark and Radzik said nothing at all, not a surprise as he did not speak or understand Norse.

After the meal, Stoick cleaned after the guests as the good Viking host he was and exchanged a very awkward hug with his son. He shook each man's hand before leaving Hiccup. Two guards who were positioned outside the door tipped their snow-capped helmets as they saw him before the heavy door closed. Hiccup's smile immediately dropped.

Braedan loaded his pipe carefully as Hiccup finished his infusion and gazed with a distant look in his eyes.

"If you wanted to influence the villager's minds, you should've asked me to help you, m'boy," the weapon trader remarked casually.

"I was not aware you could do that," Hiccup answered, turning his green eyes to the moustached man.

"Truthfully I can't. But Balerdargur can. It is more a dragon thing to do as Tagma is basically a foundation of their society, mind influence being one of them," Braedan said, taking a strong drag of his pipe.

"Tagma? So that is how it is called," the boy declared offhandedly.

Braedan nodded. "One of its many names. I believe your people call it _Seiðr."_

Hiccup shook his head weakly. "No...it is not magic, at least not as we know it," his eyes shone briefly with unknown emotion. "It's an art."

The merchant took a longer pause, not answering before looking briefly at the door and waving a hand from his companion to the boy. The elder grumbled something in an unknown language and his hand dug beneath his coat, retrieving a dark glove. Hiccup identified it immediately. It was the same invention Seven used on him to show images of inside of his body. Yet this one was in much worse condition. The plating seemed mismatched on most of it, exposing a mysterious interior. The tiny uncovered sensors worked while something whirled inside as the doctor's fingers moved, starting the device. Hiccup watched, completely fascinated. If he could recreate even a small fraction of what he had seen...the fingers, the plating covering the fingers, such fine and precise work. If he could find a way to build such protection for the hand without hindering the movement of the fingers…

If he could get healthy sooner.

There was a much bigger problem than the current condition of his body. He could not concentrate well. He lacked the sharp focus he remembered he had the night before. Only a day had passed. How was he going to survive with this condition much longer? He could face dragons, Vikings, his father, his mother, Gods, but himself? His own mind became his worst enemy. He could not fight back, he did not know how.

The device produced a hologram, a blurry and shivering one that disappeared and reappeared every few moments. The doctor grumbled something again and hit the top of his palm, stabilising the image. Hiccup turned to Braedan as he spoke, letting the other man check on him.

"Forgive us. We must work in secrecy as we do not want to be accused of witchcraft, deviltry or any other lovely name by your tribe. There's also another reason I am here besides to check on your health," he spoke as he leaned down to set a sizable leather sack on the table.

"This," he pointed at the leather bag with his eyes and a nod, "is something Seven left for you before departing. I do not know what it contains. I am only here to deliver it."

Hiccup grabbed the cryptic container and untied the cord. Seven would not depart without leaving something for him. Some guidance…some answer…some truth. He was not desperate for answers. At least he did not think so. He was mostly curious if he would ever be normal again, even if normality was just a status for the most convenient way of living at a certain period of time. It would have been more convenient, however, to be himself again.

He could not function effectively like this.

"Hiccup!" Braedan said sternly as if he repeated the same word several times.

He did it again. Hiccup wound up putting on a too large smile, his hands frozen above the sack with the white cord between his fingers.

"I'm sorry. I was lost in thought," he said truthfully.

He widened the hole and plunged his hand into the darkness.

The first item out was a booklet. A worn, hard cover tome which used to be white that turned to a shade of light-grey. The back was the same. No title, nothing that would resemble any kind of writing, not even on its side.

It was the same book Seven was reading when he first met her.

He wondered how she read it considering everything inside were empty pages. He flipped through them, his speed increasing as he moved towards the end, or the beginning. The pages were made of some kind of exotic material, smooth to touch. At the last page, which was not too many, he saw a note in Norse.

_Write in it._

Hiccup tilted his head, checking the pages once more. That was the only instruction. Experimentally, he tried writing in it with a feather tapped in ink left by his father.

"Hello." He wrote on the first page.

The pages remained blank. The ink fell off it in small droplets, leaving it pristine. Nothing was left. He checked, twice.

Braedan finished smoking his pipe and looked curiously at what the youth was doing. Radzik did something to Hiccup's arm which involved blood and a needle. He did not bother to pay any attention to it.

A few more words and failed attempts. The boy quit writing in the booklet and put his hand into the bag again. A flask emerged. It was a simple-looking clay bottle with a cork on top inscribed with _One _in Norse. He put it on the table and looked inside again. Many more flasks such as the first were inside. What caught his attention were two bags. Each was the same in size inside transparent packages. One was green and the second was filled with what seemed to be colourless jelly. Very uniform-looking runes were present in the upper corner.

Hiccup checked both, looking for any directions of what to do with them.

The liquids wobbled as he turned the packs in his hands. The only distinct feature was that the green fluid was very cold against his hand. As he looked at it, it reminded him of something.

Toothless suspended in light-green liquid behind heavy glass.

Maybe it was the same thing. Why would Seven give it to him?

He noticed Braedan turning his head to see the bags better. Hiccup turned towards him so he could see them.

"Can you read it?" The Red Death slayer asked.

The merchant smiled.

"Indeed I can. I am one of the few people who can read this language," he replied taking out his monocle to see the packages better. He spent a few minutes examining them, especially the small runes, murmuring "Hmm," and "Ah, yes." Radzik finished his examination of Hiccup and hid the mechanical glove. Braedan spoke something to the elder and they soon were engaged in conversation. The doctor appeared confused and then thoughtful as he grumbled, this time softer and looking aside in thought. After they finished, Braedan turned to Hiccup.

"Hiccup, here's what I can tell you now. This one," he lifted the bag filled with green liquid, "is the Heat Transfer Fluid." At the raised eyebrow of the expressionless boy he added, "It is a coolant." Hiccup did not change his blank face. "You know...it makes things colder. This one is used to cool down your body."

The teen articulated his next words carefully.

"What do I do with it?" He asked.

" You...rub it on your body," the trader answered.

"And then it makes it cold," Hiccup guessed.

"Yes!" Braedan beamed.

"Extremely useful," the boy deadpanned, taking it from the man's hands and putting it aside. "What about this one?"

"I do not know. I will have to check its description on the ship. I have a certain device that stores information about such gadgets," he said.

"Are those _gadgets _common in the outside world?" Hiccup queried seriously.

Braedan grinned.

"Not at all. They are extremely rare and their possession is punished by death in most lands."

"Right," Hiccup nodded as he put his hand inside the brown sack. He grasped something and pulled it out into the light. A scroll made out of parchment, rolled neatly. He put it aside and decided to take out everything else from the bag first.

Only flasks remained. All the same dull clay with different numbers engraved on them from one to fourteen.

He took a deeper breath and untied the cord on the scroll and unrolled it. Big Norse runes greeted him.

READ THIS BEFORE TOUCHING ANYTHING

_Too late for that_, he thought. He continued reading.

_ Just joking. Knowing you, it was the last thing you did, letting your curiosity rule you. I enjoy being right._

Hiccup sighed.

_ You must probably want to know what I left you. The flasks are medications for your conditions. Yes, conditions as in many. They will help your body as well as with your crazy mind, because you are crazy. If this crazy becomes good or bad crazy will depend mostly on you. I know you must want answers, an assurance that you will get better, but above all you want the truth, because you are crazy. That is a good crazy._

Hiccup stilled his resolve, waiting a moment before scanning another sentence.

_The truth is that you will never be yourself again. Not the one you know, at least. I cannot answer if you will ever be able to feel emotions fully and feel as in one body once more. I truly regret it is not the answer you wanted. Even though the ink won't convey my sincerity, I am sorry, Hiccup._

The boy set down the letter and lowered his head, taking it all in. Braedan noticed his mood before he looked away, giving Hiccup at least a bit of privacy.

It was to be expected, Hiccup decided. At least he was not tumbling towards death due to his back missing a piece of meat. He should feel sad so should he make a sad face? Was it not looking sad already? He read on.

_ I also know that you will not give up. You never give up, Hiccup. Not as you are now. I wish I would be wrong with that. To learn to move towards the future lighter is to give up the weight of the past. Here's the first step towards your rehabilitation:_

_ I would like you to draw something for me..._

His green eyes scanned the rest of the letter sharply, other parchments rustling beneath his fingers, ready to be read afterwards. As he read everything on the first page, he reread it. Then, he put the sheepskin on the table, folded it and stood up.

"Gentlemen, I am sorry, but I would like to be left alone now," he said calmly to his guests.

"Of course," Braedan agreed, translating his request to the physician. "I will research the writing on the second bag and keep in touch."

The older man touched the young man's forearm and attempted a strained smile before leaving. Hiccup nodded as the sailors left to the snow outside.

Immediately Hiccup moved into action, to the stairs and up towards his room. Stairs were a new challenge. Slowly, he stepped to the top, breathing heavily. He wobbled towards the door of his room and opened it. The floor creaked while gentle knocks sounded as his peg-leg touched the wood. He emerged with a piece of parchment and several coloured pencils in his grasp.

He descended the stairs, sluggishly, feeble on his feet. Foot.

He made it to the kitchen table. He pushed all the flasks aside, leaving himself enough space to place the parchment and pencils next to it.

The sheet of skin already had a drawing on it. The one he could never finish, no matter what he did.

The outline of his mother's face lay before him looking at him with the same, green eyes he possessed.

Hiccup grabbed the black pencil. The tip hovered before the unfinished face.

No, that was not good enough.

Using his sleeve, he rubbed it across the parchment with furious motions, erasing several years of his work in one moment until a completely blank space remained.

Then, the black tip of his pencil returned. He stilled his breath and began drawing.

Without a pause, without feeling time, he created. Drawing from his memory he was materialising a scene; locks of hair with the colour of dry hay, a scar on the cheek, small wrinkles, freckles, and a small nose. Everything matched, there was no mistake. He changed pencils, adding colours, mixing them.

It was the last detail. Curved lines formed a shape. He coloured, hurriedly, wanting to finish. With the red pencil, he gently smeared the colour until he got the light- pink he wanted. He added shades, not too much. Not to obscure anything.

Not realising he was breathing deeply, he scanned the drawing with the pencil hovering above it as a bird of prey, hungrily looking for any mistakes. Any imperfection he could correct. The excitement died slowly as he put the pencil down.

There was nothing else left to change.

His mother's face, exactly as he remembered, smiled at him. A smile he did not remember for most of his life, a smile he desired to remember so much. As if praising him for his work, for his life choices, it was a reward for remembering her.

Hiccup felt heavy as he took parchment and lifted it, letting it fill the moment in silence.

He stood up, never looking away from the best creation of his life. He walked, slowly, slower, barely moving his legs at all, drawing the centre of his attention.

Hiccup stopped before his final destination. He knew the second phase of the instruction. He read it three times.

He felt heavy, frozen, and indecisive. Even though he could not feel nor discern exact emotions, his body could. It was hard for him to do it. He wanted to vomit from reasons other than exhaustion.

Hiccup, with a shaking hand, opened his fingers and let the drawing fall into the fire. The flames consumed his memento; black spots erupted on its surface, erasing his work.

He felt weak. He shook. His legs quivered as the drawing turned to dust. Somehow it felt real as if he had to close this very important chapter of his life.

She was burning. His mother was burning and he let that happen, again.

The room spun as he fought for breath. It closed in on him. He felt alone, abandoned.

Redemption. There was no redemption. He had a chance. He had a chance to bring his mother back to life and he threw it away.

Why did it feel so real? It was just a piece of sheepskin. It was just an act, a symbol, hyperbole, a life metaphor. He was strong. He was past this. He thought he was past this. He needed...he needed...

He was going to fall and there was no one there to catch him.

Something enveloped his back, stopping his fall. It held him gently as his breathing stilled and he could think again. A crooning that was gentle and unintrusive was the only sound. Hiccup looked up, his lips curling into a very small smile.

There was a dark, giant head with even bigger, expressive grey, shining eyes. The pupil was turned to a horizontal oval instead of vertical one. A white line formed a circular outline inside the eye. It was different, but yet the same eyes. Familiar.

Hiccup opened his mind, really opened, and felt another presence next to him. Not thinking about anything, the broken boy turned fully and pressed himself against the dark neck, embracing it. Wings enveloped him and Toothless rested his head on his back.

Nothing mattered at the moment, the Fury's change, his past or Hiccup's condition.

The heartbeat did not change. It was the same, strong and calming beat.

It was enough for now. It was good.

All was good.

* * *

Stoick entered his house late in the evening as he hurriedly left the snowy footprints behind. Right after him the healer followed on her stubby legs.

"Hiccup?" The Chieftain bellowed and his boot froze mid-step.

A dragon was in his house, the Fury. And his son was sleeping by his side, snuggled to the flank of his chest.

"Mouldful, a change 'f plans," the enormous man spoke to the woman behind him. "Please come tomorrow mornin' and d' not tell a soul 'bout what ya see 'ere," Stoick commanded.

The herbalist gazed from the dragon to the leader's face and nodded, leaving with a hasty farewell.

The burly male sat at the table, smiling as he noticed the disarray of dirty plates, mugs, flasks and other items he could not identify. It appeared that Hiccup talked Braedan into acquiring more merchandise. He quickly poured himself mead from a standing carafe into an unused cup and took a long and full gulp of the alcohol. He grabbed a seat and turned it towards the bed.

A single, grey eye looked back at him.

Unperturbed, Stoick took another swig of the mead. He swirled the golden liquid, pensively staring at the strange dragon's eye. Questions or explanations. He then looked at the sleeping face of his son. It was peaceful.

Stoick sipped the last bit of liquid and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before he marched as quietly as he could upstairs to his room. He trusted his son and his sleeping, serene facade told him enough.

It was enough for now. It was good.

All was good.

* * *

"Snotlout! Come quick!" His mother called to him throughout the house.

Snotlout did not have a chance to say anything as the woman opened the door to his bedroom with a resounding crash, lit by a small oil lantern. The smell of well-preserved sweat and other odours connected to the teenager hit her nostrils.

"Sonny! Sonny! Yer father's awake!" She shouted into the darkness of the room.

"Mpfhhh," was the muffled mutter from beneath the covers, which were soon removed. The lightly bristled face of a young man appeared amidst the darkness, squinting at the sudden assault of light.

"Come quick!" His mother urged, trying to pull him from the bed.

The sudden realisation washed over Snotlout as he bolted out of the bed and rushed to his parent's room, crashing into the walls along the way. He passed through the threshold to a brightly lit room.

There he was, sitting up in his bed, covered in bandages. Thinner and pale, blistered scars ran along the top of his bald head, the only souvenirs his hair left as they burned. The stench of mixed herbal  
ointments, infection, sweat and pain filled the room, yet Snotlout was grinning.

"Father!" He yelled as he saw the tired-looking face of the older male. He rushed and gave Spitelout a strong hug, receiving a pained grunt and in an unusual show of affection, his father hugged him back with one hand. They broke the embrace quickly.

"Son," Spitelout's voice was hoarse and weak, yet he seemed happy. The scar tissue on his left cheek reached almost to his lip and hid most of his smile. "I've heard 'bout ya bein' a part of th' Council," he spoke with pride. "Then it is over. It is finally over. We won...we won!" He exclaimed, his voice breaking. His steel-coloured eyes showed more emotion than they had in years. He beamed as his wife entered the room, looking from him to their son.

"We do not need t' fear dragons any longer. They ar' all dead, no longer t' plague th' village," he lay back down with a content sigh.

Snotlout's face twisting from joyous expression to one of horror escaped the seasoned warrior's gaze. The young leader looked back at his mother in dread. The woman cast her eyes downward. Snotlout swallowed with a throat which suddenly became as dry as sand.

"F-father," he spoke weakly.

Spitelout looked to the young man with a scarred smile. The reality still escaped him, but not for much longer. For now, his sacrifice, his life-long effort, it all was paid back. It was good.

All was good.

Snotlout took a breath.

"Actually..."

* * *

**AN: Hello there. I am really sorry for such a long wait. Unfortunately, this chapter was not edited by the wonderful Fjord Mustang and it is the very first chapter I attempted to edit on my own. **

**That said, I am looking for an editor now who will be able to help me purge my writing from all that is vile. I mean you, commas. If any of you, my wonderful readers is interested in the role, please PM me.**

**Originally I wanted to make a glossary of things I used in the story. Technology, history, settings etc. and ultimately deciding against it. I believe there is no greatest joy than to discover for yourself.**

**Things to ask Uncle Google. **

Depersonalisation disorder

Solipsism

Egocentric predicament

Aileron roll

Anxiety attack

PTSD

**Again, sorry for the wait. Your opinions are, as always, welcome. See you around.**


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